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edges-of-night · 10 months

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hi! i found your blog yesterday and i’m obsessed! i was wondering if you could do one where in Y/N’s culture give someone a hand-crafted object (like a wood carving), it’s a way of confessing without actually saying that they like that person, but only Gandolf and Aragorn know since they have traveled all around Middle Earth! Thanks so much for your time!

Thank you, I’m glad you like this blog! I hope you’ll enjoy your post!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Indeed, Aragorn knows exactly what you mean when you gift him the wooden amulet you crafted over the past few days. He smiles fondly, aware of what this means for you. He’d take it the exact same way as he would a verbal love confession, takes your hands in his and gives you a kiss ♡ He'd also ask you about the exact cultural implications of the symbols you used etc.!

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen has been kind to you ever since you started your work as a blacksmith in Rivendell. She is very impressed with your work and you soon start to fall for her. When her favourite bracelet breaks one day, you see your chance to use your newly-learned skills of Elven craftmanship to make her a new one. Though part of you wished she understood your gift’s meaning, Arwen’s unknowing reaction makes you just as happy: she’s beaming with joy and giving you a tight hug!

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir spends days wracking his brains about the hand-crafted sheath you made for him. Every time he turns it in his hands, he can feel the energy and affection you poured into his gift. Still, its true meaning stays a mystery to him… until one day, he’d not-so-casually ask you, “It doesn’t carry a deeper meaning, does it?”

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

The day Elrond finds the artful bookmark you crafted for him on his table, wrapped in a gorgeous leaf, he starts researching your culture. He faintly remembers hearing of love customs from your home region but thinks this couldn’t be possibly true! After a whole day of reading, he’d ask you for a conversation and talks about it to you, always respecting your culture’s habit of not outright stating your feelings. He’d be very understanding.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer is convinced that the little horse figurine you carved out of the most gorgeous walnut wood is a present you gave him out of fascination and respect for Rohirrim culture. While he is happy about the kind gesture, he is entirely oblivious to its meaning. So one day, when you absolutely couldn’t take it anymore, you’d had to take him aside and break your culture’s customs – because otherwise, this man wouldn’t get it!

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

While Éowyn may be unaware of your culture’s custom, she does recognise how much gifting her handcrafted objects means to you. So, she soon starts making something for you in return – albeit clumsily – but still you can’t help but swoon! You start to develop a playful gift exchange that Éowyn partakes in so lovingly that in the end, it doesn’t really matter that she didn’t know of your specific custom. Since you get together anyway, you can just tell her afterwards!

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Whatever you craft for Faramir, be it a bookmark, a tool, or a piece of jewellery – he’d treasure it religiously. Maybe he’d even build a shrine around it, hidden away in his quarters, where he’d sit down and think of you. Imagine his shock when he learns (possibly through Gandalf) of your gift’s true meaning – the poor man would blush like a sunrise, unable to speak to you for the next few days. He is ashamed of his perceived ignorance toward you and overwhelms you with the most romantic love confession in return!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would be very casual about the notebook you crafted for him. He uses it as his journal, for flower pressing, and recipes. Everybody keeps asking about the gorgeous binding and covers, and he always redirects everyone to you with great pride. He is glad that your crafting skills finally find recognition in the Shire. However, since you only craft for those you love, you always have to send the other Hobbits away, until one day you admit to Frodo the truth behind your gift, which he takes with great joy.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel is convinced that the ring you made for her carries a deeper meaning, she just can’t quite put her finger on it, with you being so mysterious. It intrigues her, since usually everyone is an open book to her. When she asks you anew about your gift, you can’t help but give in to her warm telepathic voice, and confess your feelings to her. She’d light up with joy – “What a wonderful gift! The most precious anyone has to give!”

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

For Gandalf, you’d craft a new staff or wand. You don’t expect much when you gift it to him, so his sudden attention comes as a surprise to you: “You said you’ve made this yourself? It is an artful present…” His soft, loving glance would instantly tell you he understood. You share a blissful laugh, before he would deny any knowledge about your culture.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You’d gift Gimli a precious stone or gem you found in the mines, having perfected it into a shape that’s perfect for his collection. When you gift it to him, his reaction puzzles you though: “No gem in this world is more precious than your presence in my life…” He wanted to confess to you too – what impeccable timing!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir is the worst person to make gifts for – while he trains his face not to show it, his confusion is still very much readable to you, now that you know him. The archery gloves you made for him are stored away deep in his travel bag, never to be seen again. It’s not until Aragorn secretly informs him of your region’s customs that Haldir finally understands your gesture – which leaves him even more irritated...! He is considerate enough to say “thank you” at least, with a timid kiss ♡

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would be thrilled that you made him an arrow, not meant for battle but prestigious decoration. The affection and care you poured into your hand-crafted gift do not escape his sharp attention, whenever he touches the glistening arrow and turns it in his hands. Intrigued by these feelings, he starts ‘investigating’ – meaning he teases you about a possible crush. He’d only stop when he sees how important this topic is too you, which is when he finally understands.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

For Merry, you’d craft a new pipe. He is excited about your gift but oblivious to the deeper meaning behind it. That said, his sharp attention does catch your slight blush when you give it to him. It makes him think – and after days and days of pondering, he starts a courting offensive on his own, until the day you finally get together!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

The wood carving you’d gift Pippin is originally meant for decoration, but he carries it around his neck as an amulet. He proudly tells everyone who made it – and knowing how close the two of you are, it doesn’t take a genius to understand your gift’s true meaning. The situation would eventually solve by Pippin telling you, completely confused: “I thought we already were an item?! Of course I love you too!”

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Out of all the Middle-Earth characters, Sam probably appreciates handcrafting and artisanship the most, being a craftsman himself. His reaction to your wood carving of a sunflower is appropriately flustered: “This must’ve taken quite some time to make, I’d say. Turned out so beautiful, too. Not that I expected anythin’ else from you! You are very skilled in many areas, after all…” His beautiful little speech charms you so much that you end up confessing your love unconventionally! Be it verbally or with a surprise kiss ♡

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nihilizzzm · 8 months

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lotr/the hobbit incorrect quotes

part 6? is it six? might be six. i kinda forgot i left it in wips, sry

Gandalf: we need a plan

Gandalf: *points at Merry and Pippin* no explosions

Gandalf: *points at Gimli* no cursing towards elves

Gandalf: *points at Legolas* absolutely no using a shield as a fucking snowboard

Gandalf: *points at Aragorn* preferably no falling down the cliff

Gandalf: *points at Boromir* you just better be happy to still be there so stay quiet in the back, will you?

Gandalf: *points at Sam and Frodo* and we don’t sacrifice ourselves!

Gandalf: you know what, I will do the planning

— — — — —

Boromir, having no idea about geography of Middle-Earth past Rohan: so… you live in Mirkwood?

Legolas: so first of all, my father lives in Mirkwood

Legolas: I tend to live in the moment

— — — — —

Gandalf: so, what was your plan precisely?

Aragorn: Pretty much save everyone and come home unharmed?

Gandalf: plan, Aragorn, p l a n, not a fucking wishlist!

— — — — —

Just some random cook at Edoras: any allergies?

Éowyn: weak-willed men and cowards!

Éomer: and hazelnuts. she’s allergic to hazelnuts.

— — — — —

Boromir: as your adoptive older brother I will absolutely not allow you to do this stupid, immature thing…

Merry & Pippin: :((

Boromir: …alone

Boromir: and we don’t tell Faramir until we need to be bailed out of citadel’s jail

#lotr #boromir #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #aragorn #faramir #legolas #lotr incorrect quotes #merry and pippin #gandalf the grey #gandalf #eowyn #eomer #no hobbit quotes this time sorry i’ll do better :(

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velvet4510 · 7 months

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Is it just me, or do y’all also sorta wish that Jackson had filmed Appendix B as the actual ending of ROTK? Clearly, as you’ll see, I have relatively normal feelings about this.

I understand and appreciate the movie having the same ending as the actual book. But the STORY itself doesn’t end with the last chapter; it ends with Appendix B.

Imagine a 2-minute montage, fading in after Sam comes home from the Grey Havens:

An unfamiliar female voice narrates over these images:

Sam & Rosie raising their children at Bag End; Sam reading the Red Book aloud to the children.

Sam making a speech as Mayor.

Sam sitting in Bag End’s study, reading a letter signed ‘Frodo,’ which Frodo clearly left for him.

Pippin & Diamond’s wedding.

Merry & Estella’s wedding.

Aragorn & Arwen with their children in Minas Tirith.

Aragorn dedicating and unveiling a tall statue of Frodo & Sam in Minas Tirith.

Legolas restoring the destroyed forests.

Gimli bringing the dwarves to Helm’s Deep.

Faramir & Éowyn with their children in Ithilien.

Teenage Elanor reading the Red Book by herself and reading a letter or poem that Frodo wrote for her before he sailed away (because, come on, he was a 2nd dad to her. he literally named her. he adored her, so of course he left something for her since she was too young to actually remember him).

Aragorn & Arwen visiting Sam, Merry, Pippin and their wives & children at the Brandywine Bridge.

The Gardner, Took & Brandybuck families all celebrating Yule together.

Time passing … the Travellers aging … the children growing up.

Teenage Elanor introducing Fastred to her parents.

Faramir Took and Goldilocks Gardner dancing at a party, transitioning to a dance at their wedding.

Sam and his son Frodo teaching Frodo’s own young son how to work in the garden.

The seasons in the Shire changing as more years go by…

Elderly Sam and his now-adult children gathered around elderly Rosie’s deathbed.

Elderly Sam sitting alone in Bag End’s beautiful, flourishing garden with a faraway look on his face, pulling Frodo’s now-wrinkled letter out of his pocket and reading it again.

Elderly Sam, Merry & Pippin sharing one last drink at the Green Dragon, followed by a tearful group embrace.

(I know the following messes up the book’s timeline, but for dramatic effect, I think this order of events would work better as a close for the film):

Elderly Merry & elderly Pippin hugging their adult sons goodbye and riding out of the Shire together.

Merry & Pippin shaking hands with elderly Éomer in Rohan.

Merry & Pippin’s gravestones in Gondor, with a statue of them standing above their tomb.

Aragorn’s tomb now beside theirs, years later.

Arwen hugging Eldarion goodbye in his throne room, with Eldarion now wearing the king’s crown.

Arwen entering Lothlórien alone.

Legolas hopping into a small sailboat and helping an aged Gimli onboard before they drift off into the sunset.

Sam placing the Red Book in adult Elanor’s hands and embracing her tightly.

A ship pulling away from the Grey Havens.

Elanor standing on the quayside and tearfully waving as the ship disappears into the horizon. She composes herself and her narration says “And that day, my dear Sam-dad passed over the Sea … the last of the Ring-bearers.”

Her words lead into the very last shot, fading from her face into a flash of white, and then fade-in to a distant view of an island, with greenery on one side and a sparkling beach on the other. Two hobbits, their backs to us, are strolling along the coastline, hand-in-hand.

THE END.

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 5 months

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A Need of the Soul

Summary: Éomer is teaching Faramir how to speak Rohirric as a surprise for Éowyn. Come for Faramir being a sweet husband, stay for the emotional links to Boromir and Théodred. Oh, and for Éomer being a big horse dork.

Context: I pulled a JRR and wrote a whole story around a special word I like! More on that at the very bottom. You can read this without knowing any of my personal Rohan head canon, but just in case it’s helpful: In my world, Éomer is married to his childhood best friend, Mereliss. My Théodred (who you can read more about here or here if you’re interested) was a nurturing soul with a curious mind, and I may be obsessed with him. And damn it, my Éomer can absolutely read and write! (See here for why that’s the case in my HC.)

As soon as Éowyn left for the morning, Faramir pulled out his secret stack of papers, the ones he had started requesting from Éomer six months ago when he first decided to try learning Rohirric. He wanted to master the language as a surprise for Éowyn, ever conscious of how much she had sacrificed on his behalf when they married. Although he knew she loved Ithilien, he also knew that sometimes she still longed for the familiarity and comfort of home, for the people, places, and culture that were now many miles away. If he could bring some of Rohan to her in the form of her language, he hoped he could brighten her heart on those days when she looked most in need of a reminder of all that she missed.

With this goal in mind, he had thrown himself wholly into the pursuit, but the process was more difficult than he had hoped. The Rohirrim didn’t keep written records in their own language, nor did they have textbooks or primers made to learn from. All Faramir had were the pages that Éomer would write out and send to him every few weeks, using Westron to describe basic grammar rules and listing common Rohirric words and phrases by their definitions and rough pronunciations. Working from written materials to learn a language that was only taught orally was maddeningly difficult, and Faramir spent long hours alone at his desk laboring at the exercises Éomer sent, unsure if he was even getting close to the sounds he was attempting to produce.

At least he would be aided today by the presence of Éomer in person. The king of Rohan was coming to Gondor to take counsel with his allies on military matters, and he had agreed to make time for some lessons while his own wife, Mereliss, kept Éowyn occupied in furtherance of the surprise. With Éowyn gone now to meet her sister-in-law, Faramir looked down his lists of Rohirric words and tried to commit a few more to memory, repeating them slowly out loud to himself while he waited for Éomer.

“If someone back home heard you slur your way through those words like that, they might assume you were a drunkard.”

Faramir looked up to see Éomer smirking at him from the doorway, still dressed in his riding clothes and holding a small pack. “Well, if the performance of the student falls short, I think we have no option but to blame the instructor,” Faramir returned with a smirk of his own.

“A fair point, I will grant you.” Éomer strode in and tossed his things on an empty chair before pulling Faramir up into a strong embrace, thumping a fist on his brother-in-law’s back with enough enthusiasm to knock the breath out of him.

When they separated, Faramir smiled and held up his stack of papers. “I do appreciate all of this. It’s a lot of work for me, but for you, too, I’m sure.”

Éomer gave a dismissive wave. “I have the easy part. Besides, there’s some benefit to me in all of this, as well. I’ll certainly enjoy the show the next time you visit Edoras and all the ladies at court discover that you can actually understand their scandalous comments about how handsome they find you. Your admirer’s club is in for a big shock.”

They both laughed, though Éomer noted the flush of pink in Faramir’s ears and cheeks and that only made him laugh all the harder. “Don’t let them see you blush, you’ll only make it worse!” He plopped down into a chair and put his feet up, smiling.

As Faramir took a seat across from him, he felt a warm, familiar echo in his heart. The easy camaraderie, the good natured teasing balanced with true affection…it couldn’t help but bring Boromir to his mind. Faramir still missed his brother every single day and looked for reminders of him everywhere that he could. But he didn’t think it was a stretch to see clear elements of Boromir reflected in Éomer–in his strength and brashness, his earnest intensity, his fierce loyalty. They were both proud men of action with an unshakeable sense of duty and love for family. Éomer could never replace Boromir, and he was surely his own man, different in many ways from the brother Faramir lost. But it lifted Faramir’s spirits to once again have such a figure in his life.

Now his brother-in-law reached into his pack and pulled out more pages, covered from top to bottom in his own scrawly handwriting. “I’ve brought you some more to learn–words you’d hear often around Rohan and that any self-respecting Rohirrim would know.”

Faramir accepted the papers from him and skimmed his eyes down the first page, but a look of confusion slowly built on his face as he read. “Am I understanding this correctly? Why do you have twenty different words for ‘horse’?”

“I have not given you twenty words for ‘horse’! Each one of those means something very different.” Éomer grabbed the page back and pointed. “This one here, éotynde, this is an old, calm mare that would be suitable for a young child just learning to ride.” He pointed again. “And this one, éoweder, is a high spirited horse that has quickness and agility but is unpredictable and difficult to control. The others are equally unique. Do you not see?”

Faramir gently extracted the page back from Éomer’s grip, hoping to avoid a further explanation of each specific variant on the list. “I understand those distinctions, but are they really significant enough that I require a whole separate word for each one? We make do in Gondor with but one term. A horse is a horse.”

“A horse is a horse?” Éomer gaped at him, incredulous. “You think the language of the Rohirrim would put a courier horse, whose purpose is swiftness and endurance, in the same category with a farm horse, who sacrifices speed in favor of strength and power? They aren’t remotely the same thing, and a proper language wouldn’t treat them as such. If we went by your rules, we’d all be calling the blacksmith a baker because they both make things with heat!”

It was obvious from the truly scandalized look on his face that Éomer would never concede the point, so Faramir held up his hands in smiling capitulation. And if all these varieties of horse were important to Éomer, likely they would be to Éowyn as well, so Faramir would learn them as best he could. But he desired to speak to Éowyn of many things, and horses were nowhere near the top of the list. He shuffled through the papers one more time. “Have you finally given me anything that would be suitable to say to a beloved wife?”

Éomer shot him a look. “I am not the right person to consult for words of romance. And certainly not when the woman to be romanced is my own sister.”

Faramir laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s get back to your many words for ‘horse’ and I will ask Mereliss to help me with some more emotional thoughts later.”

Éomer sat back, satisfied. “I will have you sounding like a Rohirrim in no time. Now, do you know the word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses?”

**********

The next morning, Faramir spent two hours with Mereliss while Éomer and Éowyn went for a ride. When the siblings returned, Éomer sent Éowyn to Mereliss’s quarters and went himself to check on Faramir’s progress. He found his brother-in-law once again at his desk, bent over his work, and dropped casually into a nearby chair.

“Did you get all of the flowery and eloquent phrases you need?”

Faramir put down his pen and smiled. “Mereliss helped me to write a special toast to Éowyn for our upcoming anniversary. I knew what I wanted to say, and Mereliss made sure it will sound not just like a bunch of Westron bluntly converted into Rohirric words but rather something that was written by a native speaker. Something truly of Rohan. She has quite a talent for beautiful language and imagery.” He gave a sly smile. “Though she told me that you also have something of a poet’s heart when the two of you are alone in your own chambers.”

Éomer’s head snapped up, a tinge of dark red sweeping across his cheeks. “She told you what?”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to laugh at his brother-in-law’s furious blushing, so out of character for one who was otherwise always self assured and confident. Faramir had faithfully reported Mereliss’s remark, and it was clearly true that Éomer really did speak his softest thoughts to her or he would not be so flustered by the possibility that she had shared those thoughts. But Faramir had no need or desire to prolong Éomer’s self-consciousness.

“There is nothing to worry about. I know only that you are capable of words to enchant and delight your wife, which is no bad thing. But she didn’t reveal what those words are. She wouldn’t betray your privacy, and I would never ask her to.”

Éomer’s shoulders noticeably relaxed, and he laughed a little at his own embarrassment. “Well, your discussion of my clumsy attempts to please my wife aside, I am glad that she helped you. Westron is very useful, but there are some things that just cannot be said as effectively without our own words and expressions.”

“Indeed. She gave me a number of things that I quite like, ways to convey entire concepts with a single word that has no direct equivalent in any language that I know. Like sáwolthearf. Every language should have such a term.”

Sáwolthearf. The word sent a wave of fond remembrance through Éomer’s heart. It translated literally as ‘a need of the soul’ and was used in Rohan to mean someone who is necessary in order for another person to feel truly happy and complete. His late cousin Théodred, who had always been so free and generous in expressing his feelings, used to call his bride-to-be sáwolthearf, and Éomer could easily picture Eadlin practically glowing with love and pride whenever Théodred referred to her that way.

To hear Théodred’s words coming now from Faramir’s lips was no great shock to Éomer. On the contrary, it only intensified a feeling he had long had in the presence of his brother-in-law: a sense that he was not with Théodred himself, but with a kindred spirit of his cousin. Someone whose modesty, eagerness for knowledge, gentle heart and dreamer’s mind so thoroughly echoed Théodred’s own nature that Éomer felt immediately at ease in his company. Théodred had been many things to Éomer–a deeply loved cousin, but also much like an older brother and at times even a father figure–and he had carried Éomer through some of the most difficult moments he would ever experience. Éomer could never truly reconcile himself to Théodred’s loss, but having Faramir in his life helped to salve that wound.

Watching Faramir now—shuffling again through his notes and drafts, applying himself so diligently to such a difficult task and all for the purpose of simply making Éowyn smile—Éomer was struck by a profound feeling of gratitude, one that he felt should be voiced even if it was not normally in his nature to speak of his innermost feelings. He cleared his throat, and Faramir looked up.

“What you’re doing for my sister is very admirable. I know it will mean a lot to her, and for that reason it means a lot to me. Thank you, eyre-brothor.”

Faramir frowned slightly and looked back at his papers. “Eyre-brothor? I don’t think I’ve learned that yet.”

Éomer smiled. “It means ‘brother by choice.’ Write that one down.”

**********

[Language nerd notes:

“Sáwolthearf” is a real Old English word (though I modernized the thorn in the middle for readability–it’s actually “sáwolþearf”) and it really does mean “a need of the soul,” which I just think is incredibly beautiful.

I made up “eyre-brothor” by combining two other real Old English words, “eyre” (“a choice made of free will”) and “brothor” (“brother”, though once again I turned the thorn in broþor into a “th” to make it smoother to modern English-reading eyes).

“Éotynde” comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “tyende” (“teaching”) for a horse that’s calm enough to be good for beginners.

Éoweder comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “weder” (“weather”) because to be impressive but quick-changing, unpredictable and uncontrollable is to be like the weather.

And it’s not in the story, but Éomer’s word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses is an “éodrefa” from “eoh” (horse, again!) and “drefan,” which is “to stir things up or cause mischief”.]

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #lotr fanfiction #eomer #éomer #faramir #boromir #theodred #théodred #brothers #making up words #middle earth languages #brotherly bonding #divider by saradika #the rohirrim are such horse dorks #y’all of course i’m gonna put théodred in anything i can!

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headcanonsandmore · 2 months

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'How Soon The Dawn?'

Summary: During one night in the house of healing, Eowyn feels the sickness from the witch king growing within her. She needs to feel alive again; luckily, Merry is an enthusiastically willing participant.

This fic is part of Merrywyn Day 2024 (15.03.2024), celebrating the Eowyn/Merry pairing and organised by the fantastic @spectraling!

(Warning; this fic does contain scenes of a sexual nature)

~~~~~~~~~ Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry, to those closest to him) dimly opened his eyes.

It was now past sundown, and his room in the house of healing was now lit only by the small amount of moonlight that was poking through the long curtains over the window.

He sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes, curious as to what had woken him up. Even with his injuries sustained on the battlefield, he was not in the habit of waking up until morning; Hobbits generally enjoyed their rest.

It was at that moment that he heard the sounds of sobbing from the next room.

Merry immediately turned and slipped his feet over the side of the bed. He pulled the covers off him, and awkwardly climbed off the human-sided bed onto the cool tiles of the floor below. Minas Tirith generally didn’t have much call for Hobbit-sized furniture and -given Merry’s unusual size, even for a Hobbit- they hadn’t been able to find a bed suitable for him.

Crossing the floor of the room with virtually no noise, Merry slid open the door and hurried out into the dark corridor beyond. A few moments later, he arrived at the door of the next room. He was just about to seize the doorhandle when he remembered who lay within the room; it would not be considered proper to barge into a lady’s room without a second thought.

Merry instead lifted his knuckles to the door, and gently tapped.

‘Lady Éowyn?’ he whispered, just loud enough to be heard. ‘Are you alright?’

There was a stirring from inside the room, and the sound of feet pattering across tiles. Sur enough, a few moments later, the door opened.

Lady Éowyn of Rohan stood in the pale moonlight, wearing a long linen nightgown. Her blonde hair was hanging loose. Her eyes were rimmed by a soft pink colour.

‘Merry?’ she said, softly. ‘My apologies, did I wake you?’

‘Not at all, my lady,’ he replied. ‘Is anything the matter?’

‘I…’ -Lady Éowyn’s eyes filled with tears- ‘Oh, Merry…’

‘My lady?’

‘Please… come in…’ she sobbed, softly. ‘I could use the company…’

Merry duly headed inside the room, and the lady of Rohan closed the door behind him.

Standing awkwardly in the centre of the room, Merry was distinctly aware that he hadn’t been properly alone with Lady Eowyn since the battle. Both of them had been unconscious for a long time afterwards and, on the occasions they had met since, they had been accompanied either by those who worked in the house of healing or by Pippin, Lord Faramir or Éomer.

Lady Éowyn swung her legs back onto the mattress, lying down under the covers, and patted the space on the bed next to her.

Swallowing heavily, Eowyn climbed onto the mattress and lay down beside her, pulling the covers over him as he did so. Normally, he would have been startled by the casual intimacy, but the lady of Rohan looked so forlorn that the thought went out of his mind as quickly as a cloud on a summers day.

‘Oh, brave Merry,’ the lady said, softly. ‘I fear I may not be long for this world.’

Merry felt his mouth fall open, and his heart ache.

‘I feel a horrible sickness,’ she continued, with a quiet melancholy. ‘Like some sort of inner darkness within it. It is spreading in my mind and my heart, and I do not know how to prevent it doing so.’

‘L-Lady Éowyn-’

‘Please, just… Éowyn,’ she said. ‘If anyone has earned that right, it is you, my brave Hobbit.’

‘Éowyn,’ Merry said, slowly. ‘I have felt this sickness too, since the battle but… I was able to overcome it.’

‘How?’

‘Through friendship,’ Merry explained. ‘My good friend, Pippin, has often visited me, with some of the best pipeweed in the land.’

Éowyn smiled, her cheeks dimpling slightly as she did so.

‘I do not know if I can smoke pipeweed,’ she replied, softly. ‘I have never smoked anything such as it in my life, and it is possible that it may not work on a woman in the same way it would work for a Hobbit such as yourself.’

‘Maybe… maybe the pipeweed isn’t the answer,’ Merry said. ‘Maybe it is simply a renewal of desire to be alive.’

Éowyn blinked, as if confused. Without thinking, Merry reached out and softly clasped her hand in his.

‘Oh, Merry…’

Before Merry quite knew what was happening, Éowyn had drawn close and pressed her lips to his.

Startled, he did not move, but he did not pull away either. Perhaps it was the latter that seemed to give the lady of Rohan courage, as one of her hands cupped Merry’s face while the other reached around his back, pulling him closer to her.

Merry was suddenly very aware of two very soft places pressing into his chest, and his heart began to hammer in his ears. Without thinking, one of his hands wove itself around Éowyn’s back, sinking into the soft supple flesh as he pressed himself closer.

Her lips were tender and yet bold against his. The lady was breathing heavily, giving out soft gasps of air against him as their lips caressed each other. A thousand years could have passed, and Merry would not have noticed. In fact, he was not sure how long they stayed like that, engrossed in each other, pushing through the pain and aches within themselves, drowning in the pleasure of each other’s touch.

Eventually, although Merry was not sure when, their kisses became softer, and their lips broke apart. Their arms were still clasped around each other, and both of their night-things had ridden up slightly around the legs. One of Merry’s hands was cupping the soft flesh of Éowyn’s rear end, and he could not contain his mounting desire.

‘Master Merry…’ Éowyn said, smirking in the moonlight as her eyes swept over him. ‘I do believe that your spear is standing to attention.’

Merry blinked at her, before heat rose in his cheeks.

‘Er… m-my apologies,’ he stammered. ‘I did not mean to assume anything, Éowyn, but if you wish me to leave, I will-’

‘Oh, stop fretting,’ Éowyn giggled. ‘I do not wish for you to leave, if… if you are happy to stay here… with me?’

Merry nodded, rapt.

Éowyn pressed another kiss to his lips, before sitting up. She slipped her feet off of the bed, stood up, and crossed the room. There was a soft click as she turned the key in the lock.

Slowly, she reached up and undid the bows of her nightdress straps. The garment descended to the floor with a gentle flutter.

Merry’s eyes widened in awe. While it was true that he and Éowyn had shared a tent during the long trek from Rohan to Minas Tirith, he had largely kept his eyes away whenever she had changed in and out of clothes. It had been borne out of circumstance, given that both of them needed to help the other to fasten straps of armour and such like. And, while he had come to admire Éowyn during that time, he had always avoided the temptation to look at her in anything other than a matter-of-fact way.

That was not the case now.

Éowyn’s cheeks flushed with colour as she crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, hair fluttering slightly against her bare skin.

‘Merry,’ she said, softly. ‘It isn’t fair if I am the only one disrobed.’

Merry immediately pulled his nightshirt over his head, and threw it off the side of the bed. The two of them shared a grin.

Éowyn slid over the covers to where Merry sat. Thanks to the Entish draught, there was barely half a foot of height inbetween them now, with Merry’s eyes approximately level with her shoulders.

Thank goodness for the Ents, Merry thought, privately.

Climbing up to be on his knees, Merry placed another kiss to her lips, and Éowyn gave a soft gasp. Her arms encircled him, bringing him closer to her once again.

‘My lady…’ Merry breathed, as he pressed kisses to her neck.

‘I asked you to call me Éowyn…’ she gasped, eyes fluttering shut.

‘My lady Éowyn,’ Merry whispered. ‘The light of my world…’

Eventually, Merry’s kisses became firmer and more passionate, and the two of them sank softly against the mattress, hands trailing over each-others skin, now both slick with sweat from anticipation and longing.

‘Éowyn…’ Merry murmured, against her skin. ‘May I… caress you at your centre?’

Eowyn nodded, breathlessly.

‘Hurry,’ she whispered. ‘Please, Merry…’

Merry resumed his kissing of her skin, sinking down past her neck. As he continued further southwards, he began engrossed in the soft skin of Éowyn’s-

‘O-oh…’ the lady gasped. ‘M-Merry… oh, my…’

Smirking as his lips progressed tenderly around her breasts, Merry could feel the heat of Éowyn’s body against his own. His own desire was beginning to build, but he ignored it; at that moment, Éowyn’s joy was paramount.

His hands continuing to fondle her nipples, Merry began to kiss further and further down her chest, sinking past her waist and, finally, arriving inbetween her legs.

Without a word, Éowyn draped her legs over his shoulders, pulling him close to her centre. Merry let out a soft breath, and the lady shivered deliciously.

‘Merry, please…’ she whispered, warm against him. ‘I need… I need you…’

His heart pounding with delight, Merry bent his head and, drowning in the body of the woman he adored, began to feast.

It started softly, with Éowyn giving out soft giggles of delight. But, as Merry continued, the lady’s body relaxed further and further around him. Éowyn’s exclamations became less soft and more guttural, with heavy breathing. At some point, one of her hands slid down, becoming entangled in Merry’s curly hair.

Merry lost track of time. All he knew was that Éowyn was enjoying herself and, quite frankly, he couldn’t care less about anything else. His explorations of her centre gradually began to be met with sounds he would have never expected from the lady of Rohan; sounds that pushed his own desires to greater and greater heights.

In the pale moonlight of the room, Eowyn’s long blonde hair had become messy as the lady used her free hand to push the strands away from her sweat-soaked forehead. However, the hand then became entangled in the mattress cover, screwing the material in a tight fist as her body began to thrive, driven on by Merry’s devotions.

‘M-Merry…’ she gasped, eyes briefly fluttering open. ‘I… oh, Merry…’

Her eyes were filled with such passion and -was it love?- that Merry felt his heart well and his desire mount further.

‘Éowyn…’ he breathed, against her folds. ‘My lady Éowyn…’

When the climax came, Éowyn’s back arched and her toes curled. Her hand pressed down on the back of Merry’s head, pressing him closer against her centre. Her other hand covered her mouth, stifling an exclamation that would have surely awoken anyone sleeping.

‘M-Merry…’ she gasped, chest heaving. ‘Oh, my Merry…’

As her body relaxed, Merry continued to press tender kisses to her centre, before softly trailing back up her body. Her arms came to slide around him, and the two of them stayed in a soft embrace for a while, simply content to be in the other arms.

‘Merry?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Um… you do appear to still be…’

Merry looked down.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said, a little awkwardly. ‘Don’t worry; we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do-’

‘Oh, stop worrying,’ -Eowyn’s mouth broke into a wide smile- ‘The night is still young and… I have wanted this for a long time.’

‘R-really?’

Eowyn nodded, her cheeks flushing prettily.

‘I should warn you, though; Hobbits are… potent, to say the least,’ Merry replied. ‘If you remember seeing me eat, you will recall that we are ravenous and have appetites far in excess of those of men. Mine is… almost insatiable.’

Éowyn trembled slightly under his touch.

‘Then… let us proceed.’

‘But… my lady, we are not wed.’

‘Merry, you’ve had your head inbetween my legs for the past… however many hours,’ Éowyn giggled. ‘I think we have left the bonds of a strong friendship a while ago.’

‘But what if you become with child?’

Éowyn smiled. With a forcefulness that Merry had not expected, Éowyn wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

‘Then what of it? Let us give free rein to passion until the dawn arrives.’

Merry felt his length throb against her folds.

‘My lady,’ he said, eyes glinting. ‘That sounds like a wonderful idea.’

Several hours later, the two of them collapsed on the mattress. As they panted, skin slick with sweat, their arms closed around each-others bodies, pulling the other closer to them. Éowyn’s arm was now wrapped around Merry’s shoulder, while he himself wrapped an arm around her stomach, nuzzling his face against her still-heaving chest.

‘The dawn has arrived.’

‘Yes, it has,’ Eowyn replied. ‘And I feel very much alive, Merry. Thank you.’

‘Just for that? Or was it for the-’

‘Both, yes,’ -Éowyn let out a giggle- ‘I do believe that I am rather in your debt.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ Merry replied. ‘Although…’

‘What?’

‘If I may ask one thing?’

‘Name it, Merry.’

‘I… I am planning on returning to the Shire at some point,’ he said, quietly. ‘I do not expect you to say yes, but… would you accompany me?’

Éowyn smiled.

‘I mean, if we are discussing dreams for the future, perhaps… would you care to marry me?’

Merry’s eyes widened in shock.

‘C-can I?’ he exclaimed. ‘I’d- that would mean the world to me, Éowyn! But… a Hobbit and a lady?’

‘Why not? This world is such a strange and wonderful place; I can’t imagine Éomer would complain.’

His heart beating joyfully against his chest, Merry’s mouth blossomed into a smile, which Éowyn matched. They both leaned closer, and their lips pressed together in a tender kiss.

The dawn had brought a new dawn not just to the world, but to their lives too. The future stretched out ahead of them and, although Merry couldn’t predict the future, he knew that a future with Éowyn was going to be a future worth having, indeed.

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone; Happy Merrywyn Day 2024! Hope you enjoyed this fic!

#happy merrywyn day!#merrywyn #lord of the rings #lotr #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #merry x eowyn #eowyn x merry #merry/eowyn #eowyn/merry #meriadoc brandybuck #eowyn #not ace safe

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themoonlily · 2 years

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it’s so weird to me how people frequently insist that Éomer (and/or Théoden) are somehow responsible for Éowyn’s state of mind when her actual stalker Gríma Wormtongue is right there and it’s expressly stated that he targeted and manipulated her just as much as he did Théoden.

Aragorn: “Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister's love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them.”

Théoden himself was practically incapacitated by despair that seems to stem from the constant downpour of bad news that Wormtongue presented in the worst possible light (which sounds a lot like what was going on with Denethor and Sauron). Upon Gandalf’s intervention, his actual words are: “It’s not so dark here”, and “Dark have been my dreams of late.” There’s every reason to assume Théoden is/was just as depressed as Éowyn, even if he is not as clearly suicidal as she. It’s like some fans are hell-bent on making Éowyn even more miserable than she already is by vilifying her family, as if her situation didn’t already invoke enough sympathy.

Sidenote, Éowyn only abandons all hope of life when Aragorn turns her down (Faramir: “But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle.”)

Éomer actually appears to be more hopeful in character compared to his uncle or sister, or at least he seems to believe Rohan can still be saved with the help of three strangers he meets on the plains (so I would think from the way he risks his own neck when he gives horses to Aragorn and co. and lets them go look for their friends, even though at this time nobody should be allowed to travel in Rohan without Théoden’s leave.) He only loses his hope when the Corsair ships (bearing Aragorn and the Dúnedain) arrive and it momentarily seems like the battle is lost. (”To hope’s end I rode and to the heart’s breaking.”). But even in this truly hopeless instance, in one of the most memorable moments of all the trilogy, he refuses to give in: “And lo! even as he laughed at despair he looked out again on the black ships, and he lifted up his sword to defy them.”

to say nothing of Denethor, Boromir and Faramir! Denethor starts out in a very similar situation as Théoden, Boromir dies because the Ring uses his despair to consume him (although he redeems himself in the end by trying to protect his friends), whereas Faramir seems similar to Éomer in the sense that he holds on to hope even as his family fall prey to despair around him.

anyway, I think it’s a mistake - though commonly made - to examine Éowyn’s story outside this larger context of the ruling families of Rohan and Gondor, because each member of these two dynasties reflects a facet of the wider themes of hope and despair. their stories don’t exist apart, and they can’t control the ultimate reason for their individual sufferings - they only have the choice of how to deal with it (just as Gandalf tells Frodo: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us:”). all the same, it’s probably what also makes Éowyn and Faramir’s romance so rewarding even though it happens in just one chapter: they are essentially the two sides of the same coin.

it’s also interesting to reflect how these different characters respond to Gandalf and especially Aragorn (whose childhood name is Estel, meaning hope!). Only Denethor outright rejects Aragorn (i. e. Estel/hope) and his demise is undeniably most grim of them all; though Boromir and Théoden also die, their deaths are seen as having achieved something, or at least they are redeemed in death.

(also a lot can be said about the symmetry that their individual stories create in various ways, for example how Théoden and Denethor are essentially narrative foils in how they respond to despair and Gandalf’s message of hope, or how three members of these two families die while three members survive and live on. I admit that this second example is bit of a stretch because technically Théodred would be the fourth one to die, but he never appears in the narrative except as a dead man and has no arc that can be compared to the rest of them.)

#Éomer #Éowyn #Théoden #Eomer #Eowyn #Theoden #Faramir #Boromir #Denethor #Lord of the Rings #Tolkien

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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Z - ZzZ's

Written for @laurfilijames...I love you and your brilliant mind <3

Words: 938

Pairing: Éomer x OC, Éowyn

Warnings: None

Éomer had always been able to sleep anywhere he laid himself down—it was a rare talent that had ever made people envy him considerably.

Especially his sister—Éowyn being a laughably light sleeper—had cursed him more times than he could count for sinking into the arms of restful slumber so easily.

Tonight though, he found it exceedingly difficult to close his eyes—they were in the middle of the woods on a company “team building” excursion and, even though he did not object to the ambient soundtrack of wildlife and endless, mysterious darkness, he didn’t manage to quiet the roaring within his own skull.

Separated by only two sheets of thin canvas lay the woman of his dreams, mercifully allotted to another department in her daily work routine and thus unable to cost him his job by cruelly distracting him, and he could almost smell her sweet perfume wafting over into the small, damp space of his own tent.

Curled up on himself—for this was the same tent he had been using since he had been a boy much younger and much scrawnier than he was now—Éomer mused about the woman he didn’t dare approach for fear of looking and sounding like an utter fool.

Only a few hours ago, they had been doing trust exercises and he had felt her warm body in his sturdy arms as she let herself drop into his embrace without hesitation—later, when his colleagues had jokingly teased him about his luck, he had immediately laughed it off and pretended as if he had barely noticed the way her form had pressed against his chest trustingly.

It was less pride rather than earnest cluelessness that made him avoid showing his feelings and inclinations too openly—once too often, he had misunderstood people and their intentions in the past and he was now highly reluctant to be caught off-guard.

Surely, she had merely complied with the task put to her. Even if she had lingered a little too long in his hug or if she had purposefully pressed against him just a little too tightly, he would be a self-enamoured peacock for reading anything into that mere possibility.

He was not a bad-looking fellow, he knew, but—compared to her calm efficiency—he ever felt clumsy, uncouth, and foolish. Wasn’t it ludicrous and absurd that his famous confidence deserted him the very moment she walked in, all smiles and soft-spoken jokes?

It was shameful to admit, even to himself, but he really wanted to invite her to have drinks or even dinner with him…if only he had the slightest trustworthy indication of her own willingness to see him as more than just the leader of another department.

She was kind to him—perfectly polite and pleasant—whenever they had dealings with each other but that was not enough for him to truly believe that she would not burst into laughter or recoil in distaste if he expressed an interest in spending time with her outside of work.

The minutes accumulated in beads of sweat on his skin as he continued to chase the peaceful torpor that evaded him stubbornly. Instead, his muddled brain tortured him with recollections of her scent, her voice, and her trusting smile as he had gazed down at her serene face.

Just as he was about to go for a nightly walk to clear his head, a small dot of dancing brightness appeared.

Turning his head ever so slightly, Éomer discovered that the light came from the tent beside his own, dimmed not only by the two cloth partitions but also by a diaphanous piece of fabric the torch was apparently wrapped in.

Nevertheless, he could easily recognise the two silhouettes the flickering glare painted onto the wall of his little temporary abode—one was unmistakably his sister and the other the woman he had an impossible crush on.

Soon, a low, electrifying buzzing resounded—they were talking in hushed voices about Béma knew what!

Try as he might, Éomer could not make out the words that were exchanged between the two ladies, but somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might have been one of the subjects that were discussed—he knew that fond but mocking peal of laughter escaping Éowyn’s throat much too well not to be taken back to the shenanigans and accidents he had gotten into in his younger days.

She would always cackle at him like that before she helped him put the world back into order.

What terrible trespass or stupid mistake was now laid at his feet?

Mesmerised, he watched the shadow play of his sister sitting—leaning forward eagerly—while the subject of all his desires was speaking animatedly, gesticulating wildly and drawing wide shapes into the immobile air between them.

As their conversation progressed, they grew increasingly tired of keeping their voice down and Éomer could decipher snatches of their conversation—the most betraying being his own name, mentioned at regular intervals—and his fatigued mind tried hard to make sense of the mere glimpses granted thus to him.

“Hush,” his crush cried at some point, plunging forward to clap a hand over Éowyn’s mouth to keep her from bellowing some potentially incriminating statement.

“Never worry,” his sister reassured the other woman with a hint of smugness in her silken voice. “My dear brother is a sound sleeper—he always has been—and so he’ll never know that you fancy him.”

Ah, Éomer thought as his cheeks warmed up and his stomach did somersaults, how fortunate that even the greatest of blessings could sometimes fail.

@fellowshipofthefics Here we have the next one :D

Lots of love from me

@scyllas-revenge here's a bit of Éomer :D

-> Masterlist

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Éomer x OC #LOTR #April Alphabet #fotfics april alphabet #fellowshipofthefics #Z #zzz's #Éomer #Éowyn

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doorsclosingslowly · 1 year

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my brain's dead so this is from a silliest of premise, i.e. years ago Éomer and Gríma got very drunk and had a conversation about royal heirs and marriage which they both think the other doesn't remember, and then after the war Éomer gets married

Gríma learns of his King’s marriage from a young widow out on the hills just north of Edoras. Ámrun heard the news when she went into town to trade for new knives last month she says, and It’s a time for newness! For joy!, and I met the new King once he was Third Marshall then it was before the war before my Élbert was called to fight and he—

and Gríma with as much sweetness as he was born with which is none people would say if asked at least the people who knew him back when he was more than just a roving shepherd Ámrun doesn’t know him of course or she wouldn’t have him at her table at all but outside of Edoras few do and so it was a mercy from a certain view at least that he was sent away by the King when the war was won and Gríma’s stump healed. He tells her, The two lambs you want are worth more than the shirt you offer but I’ll give you the favour if you part with two turnips as well. They are wrinkly anyway it's early spring now soon new turnips will grow just give him the turnips give them. She calls him a cut-throat and a cur but she says yes which is all that matters and she mentions no more of the war, and no more of Éomer-King’s marriage.

The turnips have no crunch in them left. They are disgusting.

Back when he was still more than this Gríma would have been the first to know about the King’s wedding. Would have arranged for the most useful match would have picked the day the clothes the guests the food the vows the songs trespassing beyond his true duties as the King’s Chief Counsel because he knew best. Not to do badly by his King though of course there is much diplomatic affront to be caused by the right song to the wrong ears. No war-bells ringing now so it won’t have gone as badly as could this time this wedding which was the wedding of Éomer-King to someone Ámrun couldn’t name. If Gríma had arranged this marriage he would have done better than some woman no one can name. Is she from the south perhaps from Harad or Khand not Gondor of course after the cold Lady Éowyn’s surprising match or is she Forodwaith maybe even from Rhûn such an alliance might even counter the new strength of Gondor and—

He is a shepherd. Not even a rider not even a man. Much has happened since the days when Éomer-King’s wife was his concern things to do with Wizards and worms and pain and running and the tower the tower the tower for weeks only Saruman’s wrath for company and then the Ents. The flood. The parley with the Wizard Gandalf and Théoden-King who yet lived and Éomer was there too when Gríma tried to stab Saruman for crimes against the kingdom and crimes against him so many crimes painful crimes he was scared then of course but he was trapped a trapped beast is dangerous he took his knife and stabbed the Wizard and then he was flung or he jumped he wants to have jumped from the crest of Orthanc and he lived, too, because of the flood the Ranger later said to the dwarf they thought he was asleep then. The flood saved him but his arm is just— They thought he was asleep because he went away into himself at first from the pain. From the arm. The flood saved Gríma but it took his arm the dirty water it poisoned his arm which was mangled in the fall bleeding broken then poisoned in the water. They hacked it off. The dwarf did dwarven Prince son of—the Gríma before would have cared would have known. Théoden-King told the dwarf to hack it off the Wizard Greyhame looked on Gríma remembers this as well but not the name of the dwarf not his father.

Gríma lived.

#gríma wormtongue #dimtraces makes things #unfortunately for poor old me my setup just sprouted layers of motivation for éomer and gríma. i just wanted to write a stupid sex scene :(#grima wormtongue

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miloscat · 2 years

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[Review] The Lord of the Rings: The Third Age (GCN)

I’ve been sent back, until my task is done.

So I took some time off from my quest to play Lord of the Rings games. Quite some time, in fact. But no matter. Previously, I’d wrapped up the movie-based tie-ins and was ready to start on sidestories. So, after EA Redwood Shores (later known as Visceral Games) finished the Return of the King game, they started on a game ostensibly called LotR Trilogy, teased at the end of the former. I don’t know if this is what they were planning it to be all along, but the name at least changed.

I’ve heard people call this a Final Fantasy X clone. I can't really speak to that, but it’s certainly a turn-based RPG with one of those initiative queue systems. Progression is streamlined: some areas have branching paths but many are straight corridors, the skill trees are simple, there’s no shops and no currency. The traversable zones seem like little more than set dressing until the next drawn-out battle. These are mostly prescribed (most areas have no random encounters) and give predetermined loot. You’ll be spending a lot of time in the menu between battles fiddling with stat numbers and equipping the new drops (they’re cosmetically reflected on the characters which is nice).

If it sounds a bit railroaded, well it is. Or you could view it as one of those miniature trains in a model village, a pleasant ride to see some sights. I do recommend turning on Easy mode in the options, as it will reduce the amount of time you’ll spend watching those belaboured battle animations. (Note that I tried to play this on my Xbox but the disc was too damaged and failed after my first session, so I continued using Dolphin; the blessed speed-up feature saved me figuratively millions of years.)

There is some freedom with your character builds and your choice of party. I chose three of the six available (Idrial, Morwen, and Berethor) and used them as much as I could, and got by just fine. There’s a mechanic where you gain skill points in one of your two ability fields for each time you use an action of that type in battle. This incentivises using your skills—and they are useful—to learn more of them. I literally never used the ordinary attack! The game throws restoratives at you and you’ll frequently level up for full heals too, plus the save points replenish you. OK, so I was on Easy but the way I see it the harder difficulties were just wasting my time, and there was some challenge later on anyway.

Anyway, as an RPG it’s fine, but how is its use of the licence? Well, it feels quite fanfictiony, for better or worse. The story plays it safe by following a B-team Fellowship, closely shadowing the actual Fellowship and cleaning up after them, and almost all the six party member are expies of other characters, at least on the surface. Berethor is a Boromir type, although you find out later that he was secretly brainwashed by Saruman... and also Sauron I think? He’s a paladin type with excellent party-wide buffs. Idrial is just Arwen in the Fords of Bruinen scene, has sword but mainly healing and magic. Elegost is Strider-like, a Dunedain ranged attacker and debuffer. Hadhod is a Gimli-esque dwarf, a tank with some defensive and fire spells. Later you find Eaoden aka Éomer-lite, a Rohirrim knight with some technical buff skills, and Morwen. She’s a bit similar to Éowyn but the most original, a woman of Rohan with a tragic past and a need for vengeance who fights with double axes and thievery skills.

There’s some developments with these folks, aided by cutscenes with new narration by Sir Ian over movie footage, lending some authority while bridging the narrative to the films’ events... and the events and backstories of the game and its characters. You see, it’s told in a disjointed way, and supposed twists are just tossed off, so it ends up feeling a bit half-arsed. There’s even an unnecessary forced love triangle. It doesn’t help that several of the actors seem to be Americans faking British accents, and the voiceover recording in general could have used a pronunciation coach, but this has frequently been a problem in the movie games with their proper nouns.

It is fun getting something of an original story in this world, but it sticks very closely to the movie events for most of the time, unlike the later and more ambitious War in the North. The new characters are fun but heavily retreading known archetypes. You do get a ridiculous climax by fighting the Eye of Sauron at the summit of Barad-dûr: this is the fun kind of nonsense the game could have leaned into more, and even it seems thrown in at the last minute with no lead-in at all. There’s apparently a co-op mode but it is separated from the main game in some way, and the touted “Evil Mode” where you play as the baddies is a minor side-event that’s just a series of battles. Basically I just wish this game had gone harder and more out-there, but it’s a fun fluffy bit of fanservice all the same.

#The Lord of the Rings #visceral games #the lord of the rings the third age #review #gcn

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shipcestuous · 1 year

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The Last Rinbearer isn't really a book I'm enthusiastic about... it's a deconstruction of The Lord Of The Rings were the very premise is that the events described in Tolkien's book are conservative pro-Elvish, pro-magic propaganda slandering the technologically advanced Mordor, a land of scientists and philosophers, and its enlightened ruler Sauron. Which could be an interesting story, if played well, but the book lacks internal consistency, makes many decisions that don't make much sense from the "this is what really happened, LOTR is propaganda" angle, takes cheap potshots at Tolkien's works and ideas that feel unnecessarily mean. That said...

There's this one moment with Eomer and Eowyn that I think is kind of... interesting. Now, these version of Eomer and Eowyn seem more like the author's own OCs than new versions of LOTR!Eomer and LOTR!Eowyn, so I'm not really sure how interesting the scene might be to people who ship them in Tolkien's novel. But, taken as its own thing, it really did make me raise an eyebrow and chuckle a little.

In The Last Ringbearer, Eomer is ambitious and greedy, having a bit of a struggle for power and control with Theoden and forcing him to send away his relatively decent and helpful "consultant" from Isengard, Grima. He's also quite a lech, rallying his men during the Battle of the Pelennor Fields by giving them a speech about dying heroically so they will get to feast in the afterlife while attended by beautiful and very eager girls wearing golder bracelets and nothing else. While everyone else cheers and starts fantasizing about those girls, only a young, unusually pretty rider blushes in embarrassment...

Naturally, that turns out to be Eowyn. Who doesn't get to kill the Witch-king of Angmar, with Tolkien's version being dismissed as Aragorn, here a dishonest thug with even bigger ambitions than Eomer, making up some ridiculuous tale to mock an enemy both stronger and more honorable than him. At least she gets to kill a regular human enemy, at least... anyway, Eowyn mostly chose to fight to help Aragorn, who's been cruelly stringing her along while telling her he couldn't marry her just yet because of the ongoing war. Far from Tolkien's cold and pessimistic but honorable and brave shieldmaiden, she acts more like a naive, lovestruck schoolgirl, to the point Eomer can see through Aragorn's act right away and is distrustful and hostile towards him but she doesn't suspect anything, making her brother despair for her.

Eventually, Aragorn takes advantage of Eowyn going to the Houses of Healing to take care of a battle wound to take her as an unwitting hostage and blackmail Eomer, who can't do anything to give in to his pressures to save her.

So, yeah... the little sister falls for the wrong guy, whom the protective older brother instinctively dislikes and wishes would leave her alone, until said wrong guy uses the older brother's love for her against him. A classic, right? But as I was saying, there's this one moment in particular, after Eowyn reveals her identity post-battle...

"“Éowyn!” was all Éomer could say. “What the hell!..”

The shield-maiden stuck her tongue out at him, tossed him the Haradi cape in passing – he was left standing, stunned, clutching his sister’s trophy – and stopped in front of Aragorn.

“Greetings, Ari!” she said calmly; Nienna only knew the price of that calmness. “Congratulations on the victory. As I see it, the wartime excuses are now void. So if you don’t need me any more, say so now and, by the stars of Varda, I will immediately stop bothering you!”

“How can you say that, my Amazon!” and there she was in his saddle, looking at him with shining eyes, prattling nonsense, and then kissing him in front of everybody – the girls of Rohan are not big on southern ceremony, and a heroine of Pelennor could not care less…

All Éomer could do was look at this idyllic picture and get more upset by the minute, thinking: “Fool! Open your eyes and look at his face, it’s all written plainly there – what he is to you and what you are to him! Why, why do the idiot girls always fall for scoundrels – this one isn’t even handsome…” not that he was the first or the last such in that World, or any other…

He said none of that aloud, of course, only asked: “Show me your arm.” Only when Éowyn protested that she was adult enough to handle it and that it wasn’t even a scratch did he let out some of his frustration by yelling loudly and profanely enough to curl ears, describing to the heroine of Pelennor, in graphic detail, what he was going to do to her if she didn’t report to the medics by the count of three. Éowyn laughed and saluted: “Yes, my general!” and only the unusual care with which she mounted his horse told him that much more than a scratch was involved here. But the girl had already leaned on her brother’s shoulder: “Éom, dear, please don’t sulk, spank me if you want, just don’t tell Auntie, please?” and rubbed her nose on his cheek, just like in their childhood… Aragorn was watching them with a smile, and Éomer shuddered when he caught his look: it was the look in the eye of an archer right before he lets fly."

To recap: this happens AFTER Eowyn's already heard Eomer's very explicitly sexual speech and blushed at it. She's old enough that her marrying Aragorn wouldn't be weird except for his obvious disinterest in her as a person, yet here she is, acting all bratty and then letting Eomer yell at her about spanking her "in graphic detail" as punishment for endangering herself and getting hurt, even laughing about it, calling him by sweet little pet names, cuddling him and casually telling him she'll let him do it and won't mind it as long as he doesn't tell Theoden's wife... who shouldn't actually still be alive at his point, but alright...

All of this, after coming on to and making out with Aragorn, who Eomer hates and knows has no good intentions or true feelings for her, right in front of her brother... whose frustratiton and threats do seem to be the result of the whole of Eowyn's behavior, with her stubborn refusal to see a healer being only the straw the broke the camel's back. And all while Aragorn looks on creepily, giving Eomer all the more reason to feel protective towards Eowyn and wary of the man she's crushing on.... who's not even THAT handsome, at least in his totally unbiased opinion.

I swear, when I got to this point, I literally stopped reading and thought, "Uh, if this turned into some kind of incestuous, BDSM-flavored sexy parody all of a sudden, with Eomer losing his patience with Eowyn and spanking her for real only to find her just as giggly, affectionate, and blushy as she's been up until now, and realizing then and there that he doesn't need any heavenly virgin and he has a perfect way to make his sister forget all about Aragorn the Creep for her own good right at hand, I think I would start actually enjoying this. Wonder if there's any fic like that out there..."

Sorry for the long ask, but you see where I'm coming from, right? TLR!Eomer and Eowyn are nothing like LOTR!Eomer and Eowyn, and imo are also much worse characters, but at least, they're good shipping fodder. And I did get a good laugh out of their unintentional kinkiness!

I've never heard of this book. The premise sounds like it has a lot of potential but I'm definitely not interested in something that's going to make digs at the original work! But incest shipping has taken me many strange places before.

I really enjoyed reading your description of Eowyn and Eomer in The Last Ringbearer. That scene where she tells him to spank her is hilarious. I would definitely have to see them as new characters but they seem pretty shippable, in spite of everything. I would very much like to see Eomer making Eowyn forget all about Aragorn.

Thanks so much for taking the time to write this up and share this with us. Thoroughly appreciated and enjoyed.

#asks #anonymous #first post #commentary #noiv #nr #r: brosis #nc #the last ringbearer #tolkienverse #eomer and eowyn #eomer and eowyn: commentary

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astraeal · 2 years

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healing hands 4/?

ship: éomer/faramir rating: explicit a/n: another chapter from éomer’s pov. this one is after a two week jump in the narrative, but there's a nice little reflection from éomer's perspective to get the reader caught up!

The following weeks pass in a similar manner, with Éomer, Aragorn King, and Faramir meeting in private rooms near the Houses of Healing. They strategize along the same basic principles that Éomer had lain out for the Rohirrim when they had first met, the three of them - that they would not be drawn into any hunting parties, nor venture beyond Minas Tirith until the time came to rest. Occasionally, Arwen Queen would join them, offering any connection or support she had to the remaining elves in Rivendell, those who had not yet taken the ships to the West.

In these meetings, Faramir shows his brilliant strategist mind - even when Éomer arrives a few minutes late from time to time, only to find both Faramir and Aragorn King with heads bent over maps and tables, he gathers quickly what Faramir has pieced together. It is Faramir who enquires what had happened to the Corsair’s, having not seen them in the final tides of the war, but having heard of their pillaging along the coasts of Gondor long before Sauron’s rise. It is Faramir who suggests they consort with the Haradrim, if only to get them back under Gondor’s control. It is Faramir who questions the next steps to take with the Easterlings, citing long standing bad blood between Gondor and their people. It is Faramir who gently moves the conversation along whenever Aragorn King and Éomer find themselves at a crossroads, used to working with far prouder men.

Éomer has never seen someone so adept at polite conversation, yet without getting lost in the frivolities of politics for politics sakes. Aragorn King is still learning his diplomacies as king, balanced out by Legolas and Gimli, who seek to draw him from his place in the throne room as often as they can justify, if only for old time’s sakes.

Éomer thinks his men would be much the same if they had similar rules in Edoras.

He is glad to be spending his days in conversation with Faramir. He is smart, and loyal, and bashful to his new title though not out of a fear of responsibility, which Éomer can respect. His mind wanders, free as a horse in pasture, and he finds himself thinking of the former Captain of Gondor in other ways as well. If they were in Rohan, if Éomer was naught but the Third Marshal of the Mark, if he could but suggest Faramir follow him to his own chambers by hand or mouth, he would do many things differently. But they aren’t in Rohan, Éomer is the future/present King, and he has no private quarters in which to pleasure someone, man to man. So he stamps down those thoughts, though they rise chiefly whenever Faramir looks upon his countenance and has the audacity to blush. If it were anyone else, Éomer would consider that a sign. But they are in Gondor, and that means restraint is paramount.

And then there is the matter of Éowyn.

She still has earned his ire for having directly disobeyed him, and though he is her brother and was not her King at the time, he knows that Théoden had left behind direction for her to lead the people of Rohan in his stead - it was fully expected neither he nor Éomer would survive the battle. Had she also perished, Rohan would be leaderless, and though she nearly had, she is recovered enough that Éomer feels she can bear his wrath. Éomer had survived, making him King, and he needed to meet with his sister in the realm of politics, something they had sought to avoid since becoming Théodred’s playmates, thinking the line to be safe with him.

There is the matter of producing an heir. It is no secret among the Rohirrim that Éomer’s tastes lie with men over women, a trait he and his sister share. Sister-sons are just as capable of rule as direct descendents, so he’s confident the line will remain steady with Éowyn’s contribution, should she wish.

It is with this line of thoughts that he, at the conclusion of yet another meeting with Aragorn King and Faramir, brings himself to the Houses of Healing. Faramir remains behind, still speaking with Aragorn King about one thing or another, and Éomer finds himself reluctant to depart, though he knows he must. He has a sister to attend to.

Read the rest here!

#healing hands #i said it would be up this weekend but really i meant tonight #please do enjoy!!#eomer x faramir

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edges-of-night · 9 months

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Omg I'm like in love with ur blog rn 💕💕 I was wondering if you could do one where the reader comes from a culture that honors warriors and such (kinda like the dwarves)? And so the reader is basically very skilled with weaponry, fighting...etc

Thank you sm 💕

Thank you for your patience with this request – it was a lot of fun to write! Enjoy!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Having traveled a lot, Aragorn is familiar with your culture, though he has never been as close to someone from it as you. Seeing your famed warrior skills in person surprises him quite a bit – in a good way. He is enamored with the way you carry yourself and your weapons and, most importantly, how you lack a taste for cruelty and instead embrace mercy. He never gets tired of telling you that; it’s a value you both share.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen has great respect for you, since she is familiar with your warrior culture through her noble schooling. That said, she is also quite determined to introduce you to the finer side of life – something that you were never comfortable with or had any experience in. After all, the folk back home frown upon elaborate gowns and indulgent balls – but Arwen doesn’t care about your clumsiness. She always has a big smile on her face when you practice dancing! ♡

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Up until meeting you, Boromir has thought your people belonged to the realm of legends and children’s stories. Imagine his surprise when his rescue from the Orc attack came in the form of such a legendary warrior, dashing, loud and proud! To top it all off, you do not see the big deal of the affair and act very casual around the starstruck soldier. One smile is enough to make Boromir realise he has fallen for what he would’ve deemed a fairytale just one day ago!

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond deeply appreciates how dutiful and tidy you are. You two are much alike in that regard. The kind Elf values your time together. That is the reason he sometimes wishes you were his little secret – he is quite tired of the ‘scandal’ your presence in Rivendell is to some particularly insular individuals. Whenever someone would dare to even insinuate bigotry toward you, Elrond would be the first to defend you – rather ardently, too, having served in war himself: “Let us see how you speak of them after having your life saved in a bloody battle!”

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer may always say that he admires a fellow warrior – but the truth is, he first needs to come to terms with the fact that you are much more skilled and experienced than him. That is difficult for him precisely because he could very well imagine you as his romantic partner, but he knows that a relationship with such envy would be hard. The solution to his distress is hand-to-hand combat, which you never particularly cared for since it is not regarded as important in your culture. But dear Éomer is more than eager to practice with you!

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

It is absolutely needless to say that Rohan’s Shieldmaiden would be head over heels for you – but anyway! Not only does Éowyn love how adamant and strong you are, she adores training and sparring together with you. Her enthusiasm for your warrior culture can be overwhelming at times. You sometimes need to remind her that you are more than that. For a change, Éowyn would then teach you the songs of Rohan or tries to cook with you!

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Faramir adores you a lot. He would offer to be your squire and tend to your weapons, your armour, as well as your wounds after a fight. He would always make sure you never lost that spark in your eyes – he loves it too much! And while he is a very skilled archer and captain himself, he would never miss an opportunity to announce you to his enemies or bullies. He would also defend you ardently against anyone who criticises your perceived ‘lack of culture’ and give them an entire lecture of your people’s history and customs.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would’ve never known you were real. He has read about your people in his books and even imagined himself as such a warrior when he was a child. To meet you in person delights him to no end – he has a bit of a celebrity crush on you! However, with his attention so sharp, Frodo wouldn’t fail to notice your distress in social interactions. But luckily, being both a gentleman and social butterfly, he can help you with that – maybe in turn for a show with your knives?

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel has understood that you were the perfect bodyguard for her very early on. Other Elves may frown upon that – a warrior brute, without any regard for royal protocol or knowledge of Elven culture? So close to the Lady of Light, all day and night? But Galadriel doesn’t care a bit. She delights in the stories you tell her and even shows an interest in your swords, though a sorceress as powerful as her would never need one herself. She never treats you disrespectfully and values your opinion.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf cares very little for your culture’s glorification of warfare and honour. He’s seen the negative fallout of such extremes and is thus wary around you at first. Once he understood that you had a sense of humour though, he’d tease you quietly or give a flippant comment about one of your culture’s idiosyncrasies. It’d all be in good faith – Gandalf knows of the importance of self-defense, for example. Still, he much prefers just drinking a cup of tea with you ♡

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You could bond almost instantly with Gimli. You two speak the same language. There is, of course, an element of rivalry – especially when it comes to axes. That said, Gimli would absolutely fall head over heels for you after seeing just how skillfully and lightly you could handle hatchets and axes alike. Maybe you’d even “show him how it’s done” and then nonchalantly lean against the weapon, giving him a smirk – he’d melt on the spot!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir would, as always, pretend very hard that he doesn’t care at all for your weapon skills, stealth and sense of duty, and instead even show great disgust for your perceived lack of etiquette and politeness. But the truth is that you are the most intriguing and alluring creature he has ever met! He has always aspired to your level of conscientiousness and combat skills. He’d never say that, of course… but he might just challenge you to a duel and see how it goes – fully aware he would never stand a chance against you!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas definitely has a thing for warrior types like you. He delights in your strength, skills and sense of duty. After all, he himself is an enthusiastic archer and wants to learn as much as he can from you. That said, he also teaches you some much needed levity – not every social interaction is a battle! Observing you amuses him a whole lot, but his smirk is never cruel. He is also the perfect partner to help you unwind after a stressful day of etiquette and polite smiles – he just gets you!

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry is a big fan of warriors. He yearns for your respect and affection – so much so that he’d greatly exaggerate his own combat skills to you, thinking he’d need to be just as martial as you to deserve your love. That is of course not the case, though you appreciate the effort he goes through. You would bond over combat training and philosophy alike. Merry is quick and eager to learn as much about your culture as possible.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin doesn’t know about the prejudice the old Hobbits have towards your people and thus treats you very differently than the others. He’d ask questions about war and honour that many would deem inappropriate. Even you yourself have to admit he is sometimes a bit overly eager. That said, Pippin would just as merrily introduce you to Hobbit customs, food and history. He’d also make a big point of the Tooks being “perhaps the most warrior-like Hobbits there ever were, honestly”, with an important look on his face, before breaking into laughter upon seeing you smile.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam leaves all the fighting stuff to you. He may dutifully separate the warrior and Hobbit cultures, but he really loves the dynamic you two share. He never shuts up about how proud your people must be of you, back home, seeing just how amazing of a fighter you are – sometimes that just means shooting an arrow to get a particularly red apple from a tree. To you, it’s a simple game, but Sam always kisses your cheek with great gratitude afterwards ♡

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morwensteelsheen · 2 years

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Constantly going back and forth with myself over whether I’m too hard on the men of the House of Eorl and, you know what? I’m definitely not. I cannot express enough how heinously fucking evil it is that there are literally no negative political ramifications of Wormtongue having been banished. None. Not a single fucking one. Which tells us what? It tells us that it could have been done whenever. Would Théoden have been mad? Yes! Would he have been more mad that when Éomer pursued the Orcs against his orders? Yes! Would he have likely gotten over it? Yes!

But the fact of the Rohan plot in the books is that absolutely nobody involved genuinely cares about Éowyn in a way that really matters. Oh, sure, Éomer has some nice things to say once she’s gone and tried to get herself blown to fuck, and everybody’s very loudly wondering how it could have come to this, but before that there’s seriously no regard for her or her feelings. Like. Maybe I am overreacting slightly but I think the extent to which Éowyn was actively (not passively!) abandoned by her family cannot be ignored.

It’s also, I would argue, a fundamental part of Tolkien’s in-built criticism of Théoden’s kingship. Théoden fails as a king not just because he’s an ineffective ruler, but because he fails in his patriarchal obligation to the young woman he has taken on as his ward. Do I agree with the politics implicit in that? No, not totally, but it really can’t be ignored I think.

#don’t even get me started on the Éomer revisionism man #no he’s not a woke king sorry

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lilxberry · 3 years

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I Thought I lost you - Éomer

Requested By: @kahlstop

Reader is courting Eomer and she rides to war with eonwyn and stays by her side but gets stabbed with a blade (quite deep) so after Eomer runs to eonwyn and she is taken away by Aragorn, one of the riders tell him that reader is mortally wounded and so he rushes to get to her and she’s asleep for a long time and one day she wakes up and there’s fluff and tears and he proposes cause I never wants Reader away from his side!

I kinda changed it a little but overall, it’s still the same, just some minor tweaks. I also included a little bit at the end when you first came to me with a request. Your original request, (’Hullo! Could I get an Eomer x (human) with the morning after the wedding Fluff?’), is kinda at the end of this one.

I hope you like it, especially after I made you wait so long for this, which I feel super sucky about. I’M SO SORRY AHHH.

Warnings: Mentions of violence. Mentions of blood. Mentions of injury/wounds. Mentions of SMUT, (no actual smut). Pretty much it. Plus, fluff.

Words: 1,979

Pairings: Éomer x Reader (x female reader)

(A/N: Is it just me or can anyone else just kinda imagine this dude being like a sweet lil’ virgin and he would 100% save himself for marriage?? Yeah?? No?? Maybe??)

(A/N 2: My doods, why do I suck at thinking of titles lmao)

_______________

“Éomer, please, do be careful.” The slight hint of fear in your tone as you spoke to the man that courts you were audible to him and him alone, as the others surrounding you make a ruckus preparing to ride out and fight.

Éomer deeply breathed out through his nose as he leant down to place his forehead against your own in an affectionate manner. “I cannot promise that I will make it back, my love, but you must know that I will try my hardest to return to you. even if I were to be missing an arm and a leg.”

You close your eyes softly and gently rub your nose against his own, relishing in the moment that may be considered the last you share with the man of Rohan, the man you love.

Voices boom away from you both, calling those to ready to ride out. Reluctantly, Éomer pulls away from your grasp, the heat from your body dissipating almost immediately, making him miss your warmth already.

“I shall see you soon, my love,” he called out, stepping further and further away from you. With one last look of longing, he turned and made haste towards his horse near the front, helping to lead the charge.

You watched his back until it disappeared within the crowd and sighed. You turned your face towards the ground, eyes burning with unshed tears.

But then, a commotion to your left caught your attention. Peering over, you spotted the hobbit they called Pippin clash and lock eyes with a soldier. After witnessing their interaction with your eyes trained solely on the pair, you’re quick to realise that it was no soldier, but, in fact, Éowyn.

You inhale sharply, realising why she wears the armour and why she has tucked away her flowing, blonde hair into the helmet. She was planning on going to war. And that is when a plan of your own formulated in your head.

With that, you were off to set your plan into motion with a final sentence uttered quietly to yourself. “You shall see me sooner than you think, my love.”

_______________

It wasn’t too difficult to find a horse that wasn’t in use surprisingly, even easier to swipe spare armour and a pair of men’s trousers. Your dress was speedily ditched so you could adorn the metallic protective wear and flexible clothing, although, it needed minor alterations to accommodate your figure.

As you follow on horse back with your own sword sheathed at your hip, you make sure to adjust your helmet properly atop your head, ensuring it’s secure and proper fitting.

Yells, no doubt commands, were faintly heard from your position way far into the back of the herd. Your head snapped up at the authoritative voice and that’s when you realised, you’re on the outskirts of the battlefield, your enemy appearing as tiny figures from the opposite side.

You suck in a breath, preparing yourself as you see the first few rows of men ride quickly across the large, open area, seething in anger, battle cries from both armies. The satisfying sound of your sword being pulled from its sheath and the weight of the weapon quickly occupying your strength consumed you and soon enough, your own battle cry was heard as you and your row charged out, joining the fight.

_______________

Your horse was abandoned in the early stages of the fight, quickly being cut down by an enemy. You fought ferociously, swinging your sword left and right, slice through enemies with speed and precision, the blood of your enemy coating not only the blade you wield, but you, yourself.

As you fought to protect yourself and bring down the enemy, a worrying thought stilled lingered in the back off your mind, distracting you plenty. Where is Éomer? You have failed to even catch a glimpse of your beloved, adding a weight to your chest. A painful, heavy weight.

But just as you brought down yet another grotesque orc, your eyes seemingly land on the person you’ve been worried about most. Those dishevelled locks of sunshine swishing animatedly around him, discarded helmet somewhere on the floor, as he swung his own weapon, a faint glistening of sweat coating his forehead.

Upon closer inspection, you note how greatly outnumbered he appears to be. Five enemies closing in on him, forcing him to strike twice as hard and twice as fast as he slowly takes steps back. Concern and an overbearing amount of courage surged through you, seeing the person you love in such danger drove you to run towards the man and his foes, your arms raising your sword high above your head.

The orc brought his sword down, but instead of clashing with Éomer’s, he was surprised to see another blade from a soldier taking the brute force of its swing. You force the orc backwards with a hard shove, it stumbling over its heavily booted feet, before quickly swiping at one of the others that continued to advance.

Éomer was quick to join your side, readying his stance quickly and charging forward with you. Orc after orc you worked together to bring down, soon, a moment presented itself to allow you to finally breath in, albeit shakily.

The both of you were so caught up in that tiny opportunity for a breather that, before you knew it, an orcish blade swung out towards Éomer. Panicked, you jump in front of the man, you sword missing its mark, allowing the offending weapon to impale the right side of your abdomen below your ribs.

A pained scream tore itself from your throat and you began to fall towards the solid ground as Éomer was quick to take down the orc. As your back connected harshly with the ground, your helmet separated from its position on your head, exposing your (H/L), (H/C) hair to all, to Éomer.

Éomer had been so caught up with the battle that he didn’t have the time to observe you properly, not until now, now until the woman who had captured his heart lay on the floor heavily wounded, blood oozing out of their injury, slowly losing consciousness.

He quickly dropped to his knees beside your weakening body and stretched his hand towards you shakily, afraid to touch you in fear of escalating your pain. “Y-Y/N?” You were writhing in pain and he knew that if he didn’t do something fast, whatever that may be, he will lose you.

He quickly but cautiously placed one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, your face already scrunching up at the pain. “I’m sorry, my love.” He lifted you, raising to his feet, all the while a agonising, pain wrenched scream tore itself from your throat. Éomer could feel the tears build up within his eyes but he willed himself not to cry, not yet. There was still chance to save you.

The sounds around you became a distant buzz, you felt numbness mix with your pain. Your eyelids grew heavy and you didn’t know whether you could keep them open for much longer. “Stay with me, stay awake. Don’t close your eyes.”

Éomer’s words of encourage did little to help, although you appreciated them all the same, and you closed your eyes, falling unconscious, the darkness greeting you as the man you loved carried you across the battlefield.

_______________

There was a soft light that you took notice of from behind your closed eyes, waking you up more with each passing second. Your eyelids slowly fluttered open and when light came into contact with your (E/C) orbs, you were quick to squeeze them shut once more, groaning.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” a soft, feminine voice spoke to the right of you. Still feeling groggy from sleeping for so long, you turned your head towards your right and squinted your eyes, only to see a female healer organising what appeared to be a large bowl of water atop the bedside table. “Please, try refrain from moving, it may agitate your wound further.”

You lightly placed your hand over your abdomen whilst looking down, faintly remembering what had happened out on the battlefield. You opened your mouth to speak but it appears the woman had already known the question that was at the tip of your tongue as she swiftly cut you off.

“Lord Éomer is fine. If I’m correct, he should be waiting outside of the room. He’s been quite persistent to see you,” she softly giggled. “Should I tell him you are awake and want to see him?”

All you could do was nod, slightly dumbfounded by the fast pace of the conversation. She gave a curt bow before making her way around the bed, across the room and out of the door, gently closing it behind her.

Not even a full minute later, the door opened once more to reveal the man you’ve so desperately been wanting to see. Like a crack of a whip, he crossed over to the left side of the bed you lay in and sat on the edge, clasping his larger hands around one of your own.

He brought them up to his lip and placed a timid kiss upon your knuckled. “Never, never do something so reckless like that again. I thought I lost you.” Although it was barely mumbled against your hand, you heard him loud and clear.

A small smile broke across your face as you pulled your hand away from his own, only to reach up and gently cup his cheek, stroking it with a feather light touch. Éomer leaned into it almost as if it were routine, which forced your smile to grow.

“Lets just be thankful that I am alright and that we are here together, yes?”

He chuckled lowly, nodding in agreement before leaning down, being mindful of your wound, and resting his forehead against yours. You both closed your eyes, relishing in the sweet moment between you both.

After minutes of silence, Éomer decided to finally break it. “Marry me.” Your eyes shot open, only to be met with his that were already looking down towards you expectantly, his gaze hopeful.

“Yes.” Your whisper was so quiet, you were afraid he hadn’t heard your answer, but one look at the massive grin that found its way on to his face told you otherwise.

_______________

---ONE MONTH LATER---

Morning light bathed the room in a soft glow, rousing you from your sleep. Your eyes slowly opened to be met with a broad, bare chest and arms comfortably tight around your waist. You smiled, closing your eyes, and burying your face into Éomer’s chest, scooting closer into his warm embrace and inhaling his scent.

Your smile grew as you felt his arms tighten ever so slightly around your waist, a loving kiss placed on your head. “Good morning.” You could almost hear the lazy grin as he spoke with a voice still laced with sleep, an octave or two deeper than usual.

You lifted your head up to look towards your new husband and smiled seeing as he was already looking down at you. “Good morning.”

“How did you sleep, my love?”

“I think you already know that I, in fact, didn’t get much sleep.” The low rumble of a chuckle was a pleasant feeling.

“I must confess, even though it was tiring, I enjoyed consummating our marriage.”

You giddily giggled as your hand lightly traced shaped across his chest. “I do believe that neither one of us need to be anywhere so soon. Maybe we should consummate it once more, just to be sure.”

His relaxed expression turned into a wicked, mischievous grin as he manoeuvred his body to hover over yours, his arms propping his body up, hair falling on either side of his face. “Ah, yes, just to be sure.”

_______________

Man, I suck at getting stuff out

College had been kicking my ass man lmao

I’m pretty much free though so I’m all good to write again, I guess

Also, this was the last request I received before throwing myself into college work so, yeeee

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, requests and constructive criticism in welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

#eomer #éomer #eomer x #eomer x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x fem reader #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #eomer fic #eomer imagine #eomer oneshot #lotr x reader

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