#sotwk fic: taken

[sotwk]

Taken (Eomer x Reader) - Part 3 of 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Summary: After having his proposals and professions rejected by the woman he loves, Éomer still refuses to be dissuaded. He vows to continue fighting for a future with her--even if that means having to let go for the time being.

Word count: 6.7k

Dedicated to anyone who has ever known the pain of loving someone you could not have. <3

Content: Boromir lives (!), angsty romance, declarations of love, jealousy, mutual pining, class division, shield-maiden, Éomer King, Rohirrim OCs, post-RotK, non-canon pairing

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Sensuality gets steamy, but nothing explicit. Mentions of old battle injuries.

To Read on AO3: Link

Taken 

PART THREE

Third Age 3019 May 6

Minas Tirith, Gondor

“If you would allow me to propose something your Grace, I--”

“Éomer.” The King of Rohan growled the ungentle correction with an irritated shake of his head. “If I have leave from your king to continue calling him Elessar, then I will not abide frivolous formalities from you…Captain. And speak freely! It is your candor that I came here for, as much as your counsel."

Boromir chuckled faintly. “Very well.” He downed the last of the wine in his goblet before picking up the jug to refill it, then reaching across the table to serve his guest as well. 

While Éomer took a hearty swig, Boromir used the extra seconds of silence to weigh his next words. The noble horse-lord had done most of the talking since his arrival at the house not an hour ago, rambling on with barely contained agitation that would have frightened or offended anyone unfamiliar with his character. But Boromir had known Théodred’s cousin since he was a child, and while he was not nearly as close to Éomer as he had been with the late Prince of Rohan, their friendship had deepened enough--especially over the past few months--to familiarize Boromir with the trigger points of his temper. 

And Boromir had never before seen him more sensitive about a topic than the matter they had at hand. 

Love certainly wields such terrible power over a man, the Captain-General of Gondor mused, before clearing his throat. 

“I will gladly fulfill your request of watching over her in your absence, making sure she is well-treated and wants for nothing,” he began. “But a soldier can quickly grow restless without sufficient martial exercise.” 

“I agree.” Éomer leaned forward to fold his arms across the table. “Has she not been here long enough for your men to grow accustomed to seeing her at the training grounds? None of them need spar against her or even alongside her if they do not wish to. She would be content to practice drills on her own. In fact, she may even prefer it.”  

“My men will tolerate her presence just fine. The valor she showed on Pelennor was well-witnessed, and stories of it have circulated around our garrison,” Boromir said. “I admit she may inevitably overhear crass remarks from some passing boor among the citizenry. A woman warrior still remains an oddity in these parts. But I am sure she did not come to her status without learning how to weather such criticisms.” 

“Yes.” Éomer stared at the empty goblet he rotated slowly between his hands. “She has had to bear with a lot of ignorant talk over the years.”

“Which is why I propose taking her as a member of my company while you are away. Just temporarily,” Boromir added quickly, noting the immediate change in the horse-lord's demeanor. “It will help her feel more at ease while here, separated from you and her countrymen, if she had a group to belong to.”

“She has already taken a strong liking to your Aerdis. Which, I must confess, took me by surprise.”

Boromir smiled at this, his fool heart ready to burst with joy at every casual mention of his betrothed. “My lady is an easy one to love,” he said simply. “And indeed, the two seem to enjoy each other's company. I am certain Aerdis would be happy to continue acquainting her with all of her treasured haunts within the city and even beyond its walls. But…” 

He rubbed his jaw slowly, ever the unconscious tell of his discomfort with the situation at hand. But it was no use dancing around the real counsel he wished to present to Éomer King. “When it comes to daily labors, a shield-maiden will likely be happier with work better suited to her talents.”

Éomer cocked an eyebrow, clearly undeceived by Boromir’s attempts at off-handedness. “What sort of work? I sense you have something specific in mind.”

“I do,” Boromir admitted. “And I shall explain it to you plainly, although I will first say that it is both a suggestion and a request for a favor.” At this point he considered offering Éomer another refill of his drink, but the deepening scowl on the man’s face made him think better of it. “As you may have heard, I have been charged by King Elessar to lead the delegation that will treat with the Southrons. Sadhar has already come forward with an offer to parley, as soon as next month.”

Éomer’s eyes widened; he caught on even faster than Boromir had expected him to. “And you wish to include her in your delegation?”

“With your approval, yes.”

“You do not have it!” Éomer exclaimed. “And how could you propose such a thing?! Have you forgotten how she was so nearly dragged off by those animals to be taken who knows where for purposes I dare not even think of?”

“Are you really asking that of the man who came to her aid?”

It was a risky move to prod at that wound, but Éomer looked properly chastised by it. “You rescued her,” he conceded. “And for that I shall eternally be in your debt. But I cannot pretend to understand why you wish to involve her in any dealings with Harad.”

“You must see why I thought of her,” Boromir insisted. “You, who can personally attest to what she is capable of.” But Éomer continued to look too distraught to think, so he laid the rest out. “I can count on the fingers of one hand every person I know who can speak a Haradric dialect with reliable accuracy. Half of them died in the war.”

Éomer rose abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in his state. Muttering indistinctly, he turned his back to Boromir to glare out the nearest window and brood at the rain lashing against the glass panes. 

“When Théodred used to boast to me about her, I dismissed it as a mentor's pride in his fanciful protégé,” Boromir continued. “I suppose I too allowed myself to be distracted by her sex. But she really is a hidden gem in your Éored, is she not? Your cousin invested in her training with great thoughtfulness, and it has borne fruit marvelously. He really believed--”

Éomer slammed the heel of his hand on the window frame. “Théodred was not the one hopelessly in love with her for so many years! There lies the difference!” he snapped. “So when you ask for my consent to take her to meet with our enemies, consider that you are asking me to risk the life of the woman I absolutely refuse to live my own life without!”

And while Boromir reacted with silence, he stood there, breathing hard, one fist on his hip and the other hand pressed over his forehead. “Forgive me,” he mumbled. “The wine, I…and I have scarcely slept since--”

Boromir waved off the apology. “I understand your agony well. It was not long ago that I lived through the same, and just mercifully survived to a happy end. I am on your side, Éomer. I know politics and duty might make the lines difficult to discern, but I hope you can believe that.”

“I believe it.” Éomer made another weary swipe of his hand across his face. “At least I think I do. Too many things are changing too quickly, and I fear a failure to keep in step shall result in my simply being dragged along behind everyone else like an unhorsed sot.”

“Then maybe there is wisdom in her request to stay behind and out of your way. The time apart may provide you the focus you need to regain your footing.”

The tired lines on Éomer’s face tightened again. “And why must time apart involve setting her on a perilous road?”

“The mission carries little chance of peril. Peace talks, even with Harad, are nothing compared to everything she has survived to get this far. You know this.” Éomer brushed past Boromir to return to the table, but the captain’s frank reproach pursued him. “Separation from her is what you dread, not the Southrons.”

So furiously did Éomer scowl at the table surface that for a moment Boromir thought he might turn the heavy shelf over in a fit of rage. Instead he seized the wine jug, poured himself a gobletful, and drank it in two forceful gulps. 

“I had hoped you could give me counsel on how I might change her mind, and convince her to simply come home,” he finally said. “Perhaps even quell her doubts in the future she can have with me.”

Underneath the anger and frustration, Éomer’s raw misery lay bare to Boromir, and suddenly he felt a swell of compassion for the young king. Would that he could offer a swift resolution to his predicament, instead of mere commiseration for the challenges that still lay ahead. 

“However hard it is to hear, separation is the soundest advice I can give you today,” Boromir said. “Time and distance are most effective at calming the storm in one's mind, so that the heart may have its chance to be properly heard. Many have learned this from experience, myself included. I believe it shall be the same for your lady.”

Éomer's shoulders heaved in a ponderous sigh. “If only it did not feel like such a gamble.”

Boromir could not help a chuckle. “Then I regret I must tell his majesty, that you cast your first of many dice the moment you let her take your heart. But in the end, you shall be the one to decide how much you are willing to risk, and you alone decide when you are done.”

The anguish that resurged on Éomer's face was almost a relief to Boromir. The King of Rohan was wise enough to already know the graver half of the truth: that his new throne was in many ways a cage, and there was very little a good ruler could afford to risk in pursuit of his own desires. 

* * *

“Take the names of any fools who might give you trouble,” Léodor said, unhooking the reins of his horse to start leading it across the muddy yard. “I can sort them all out on our return.”

You laughed as you followed him to the edge of the farmland property, marked by the scorched ruins of what had once been a granary. “Do you really think I could wait that long without sorting such fools out myself?” 

“Anyone with the gall to harass a rider of the king’s Éored deserves a second dose of thrashing, or a third or fourth.” Your friend turned to grasp your forearm and give it a firm squeeze. “Although I sincerely hope these men of Gondor would know better, for their own sakes.”

“They are our allies, now more than ever before,” you reminded him. “And I have every confidence in their courtesy and hospitality.”

“Perhaps if you were less of a recluse and better at making friends, I would not worry so.”

Your knuckles barely grazed his sleeve as he darted away and promptly swung up to the safety of his saddle, chortling and calling, “You are only proving my point, sister!” 

“Waste not a thought or care on me, and focus them all on your family!” you retorted, and stepped back as he spurred his horse forward. “Westu Léodor hál!”

You watched him gallop off across the plains of Pelennor, back to the distant towers of the White City. Tomorrow, he and the rest of the Éored would finalize preparations for the greatly anticipated journey home. But as soon as he heard that you had been tasked with staying behind, to remain with the body of Théoden King, Léodor alone took the time to come looking for you. 

Whatever his suspicions regarding Éomer's selection of you as the one to leave in Gondor, Léodor spoke nothing of them. He was content to spend his entire visit sharing the cask of ale he brought, and talking your ears off about all the things he planned to do with his wife and son and infant daughter upon their reunion.

How far your relationship had come, you mused, as you watched the shrinking speck finally melt  into the shadows of the deepening twilight. With him and with the rest of the men in your company, when you had once sworn, in tears hidden, that they would never accept you. Now their departure would sting as though you had been orphaned for the third time. 

It is only for several weeks, you told yourself, to ease the weight of doubt that sat upon your chest. As you turned to walk back toward the cottage, a fierce wind rose and ripped off the cloak that was loosely draped over your shoulders. With a startled cry you grabbed for it, but not quickly enough to save it from landing in a large puddle.

You retrieved the soaked fabric from the mud with a sigh. A fat raindrop landed squarely on the top of your uncovered head, and was immediately followed by another and another. Spontaneous rain had been pouring on and off over Gondor since the King’s coronation, and you heard the locals welcome and praise this tumultuous weather as a blessing, a sign of war’s filth being washed away to cleanse the lands for rebirth. 

Shielding your eyes from the sudden deluge, you looked up at the roiling clouds overhead, further entranced by the sight of jagged lightning flashing over the White Mountains.  But when your gaze dropped back down to the horizon, you were alarmed to notice a horsed figure crossing the fields through the storm, approaching fast, in your direction. 

It was him. Without proof of his face or voice, or even the support of logic, you just knew. It was him. 

The very thought of that froze you, mind and body, in place. Pale and immobile and increasingly drenched, you stood like a deeply rooted tree while the rider drew closer and closer, on a horse powerful enough to sustain its determined gait over the sodden ground and lashing winds. Dumbfounded and dazed, you remained, until at last he came to a stop just several yards away. He dismounted Firefoot, his heavy boots squelching in the muck, and that sound snapped you to your senses. 

“My lord,” you rushed forward with the soiled cloak twisted uselessly between your hands. “The stables are around the back. Let me take Firefoot there while you get out of this rain.”

“I shall stable him,” Éomer said sternly, but not unkindly, to warn you against arguing. “Go and wait for me inside the house.” 

Without speaking another word or sparing a backward glance, you obeyed your king. You shut the cottage door behind you to keep out the ill weather, hung your wet cloak on a peg, and crouched by the warmth of the fireplace to dry off as best as you could. You kept your jittery hands busy feeding the flames with more wood, but your mind refused to be calmed as easily. 

What is he doing here?! The agreement had been for you to report to him the following day, to receive in full detail your last set of orders before the entire Rohan contingent departed. Éomer had granted your request to stay behind quickly enough, and with so little argument that you had hoped perhaps the issue between you was settled, at least for the time being.

If he was not prepared to completely abandon his fatuous notion of asking you to marry him, then time apart would surely set his mind back to good sense. The Éomer you knew could always be trusted to do the right thing. You clung firmly to this thought while you waited the agonizing minutes for him to return from the stables. 

As soon as he entered, you offered him the last clean towel you could find to dry himself with. He raised his eyebrows at your attempt to give him royal treatment, but graciously swiped the cloth several times over his face, neck, and hair, before tossing it over the back of a chair. 

“So this is the place.” He peeled off his riding cloak to reveal clothing underneath that was just as soaked as yours; he may as well not have bothered with the outer garment at all. “You said it belonged to Lady Aerdis’s late…uncle?”

“A relative of sorts,” you said. When you confided in your new friend your wistful desire to be housed outside the city, where you could have more quiet and solitude, she had been quick to offer the empty cottage in near Pelennor that was recently willed to her by deceased relations. “There are things I can work on to help restore it while I am here. Even my meager skills will serve a farm better than sitting on my hands in the city barracks watching everyone else in their labors. I wish to remain useful, and do my part in the rebuilding.”

“I understand. You have explained all that, and well,” Éomer said slowly. “But regretfully, I must rescind the permission I granted for you to live outside Minas Tirith. You can stay here for the remainder of this week, to rest and do as you please. But afterward, I would like for you to go back to the city and remain there until my return.”

You bit back a protest, determined, now more than ever, to reaffirm your position as his servant. “May I ask what I am to do there, then?”

“Lord Boromir petitioned me to loan you to his company, and I granted it. He shall assign your duties, and you will take your orders from him while I am gone.” 

Although it surprised you to hear this, it was a welcome prospect. Of all the men in Gondor you liked and trusted Lord Boromir the most, having known him since you were just a girl, albeit not intimately. This would provide an opportunity to improve on the connection. “Lord Boromir honors me with his request. And as always, it shall please me to do as my king commands.”

Éomer responded to your formal pledge with a weary sigh. He braced his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, and the way his knuckles whitened in the tightness of his grip, while he searched for his next words, did not escape your notice. 

“Make no mistake, this command does not align with what I desire,” he said thickly. “Leaving without you violates every instinct in my body, but if that is what must be done to make you see reason, then I shall bear it.”

“Reason?” you repeated stiffly. “What conclusion are you hoping I might come to?”

Éomer raised his eyes from the floor to meet yours across the room. “I know you believe that putting distance between us may somehow alter how I feel about you. But I in turn believe the time apart will help you accept how deeply in love you are with me.”

The heat that flooded your face burned through your mask of composure. “I am not--”

“Enough.” The sadness that bled into that single word made it a plea instead of an order. “I did not come to reopen discussions on the matter. Especially not if denials are all you have left to say to me.”

“Then pray tell, what has my lord come for?” you challenged him behind your icy courtesy. “How else may I serve you, Éomer King?”

The hurt that crossed his face came on so suddenly, looked so profound and real, it was as though you had physically struck him. He stared at you in a dead silence, and you forced yourself to hold his gaze while you held your breath, guilt sinking into your gut from the knowledge that you were the wretch who had gone too far. 

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Clearly there is nothing more to say, other than farewell.”

He picked up his cloak, turned, and left, leaving you utterly dumbfounded, staring at the door that slammed shut behind him.

The longest seconds of your life passed before your shock and indecision were overcome by a wild hysteria that made your entire body grow cold.

You leapt for the door and wrenched it open, and stepped into the downpour in time to see him vanish around the corner of the house, heading back to the stables. 

The loss of him from your sight smashed through your bravado, and you cried out into the storm. 

“Éomer!!”

Before you could grasp your reasoning for why you did it, or what you planned to do next, he reappeared, every footstep leaving puddles as his approach backed you up into the cottage. His eyes bore down at you, his expression now guarded and inscrutable and expectant. Gusting wind drove in sprinkles of rain through the door left open and ignored. 

I am sorry. The whisper sitting on the tip of your tongue was smothered by a hostile inner voice. 

Let him go. It is your duty. It is what’s right.

But your stolid face collapsed under the weight of your anguish. A grimace squeezed out the tears that blinded your eyes, finally betraying your shameful truth. I do love you, Éomer. 

Gentle fingers settled lightly over your lips, stilling their feeble quivering. A voice even warmer and more tender than this touch eased your struggle.

“I do not need words. This is enough.”

As the hardened pads of those fingers brushed across the plane of your cheek, you closed your eyes and at once forgot all else that existed. Such was the power of his touch that for years you so vigilantly avoided, until that fateful moment of weakness after the coronation exposed your secret. That moment could never be undone, no matter how hard you tried to bury the truth now.

Éomer murmured your name, his breath warm on your temple, and then his hands stilled where they lightly cupped your face. In that pause lay a question, and the last time you answered it, you had hurt him. Foolish liar that you were.

“Yes.” The whisper passed from your lips to his as his mouth wasted no time seeking yours. You clasped your hands around the back of his neck, urging him closer as your own hunger surged. You felt the tremor that ran through his shoulders when you slipped your tongue against his. How could you have ever chosen to cause him pain, when you could have given him this instead?

He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, but nuzzled your chin upward to gain access to your neck, so his lips could continue their quest to the hollow of your throat. You gasped at the scrape of his teeth on your collarbone, then moaned when he remedied his offense with reverent strokes of his tongue. His arms wrapped fully around your waist, pulling you greedily against him, fingers threading and tugging at your hair as he moved his worship to your shoulders.

But it was your touch, the scrabble of your hands over his hips and stomach as you held on to him for balance, that elicited a low growl. In just a few hurried steps, he backed you to the furthest corner of the cottage, until the side of the bed hit the back of your legs.

Your name was still the only thing he could utter, muffled in between the kisses he could not stop lavishing on every bit of your skin he could reach. Your hands found their way to his hips again, this time  sneaking underneath the wet fabric that clung to his torso, then brazenly gliding upward, past his belly to the taut muscles of his chest, high enough for your thumb to circle his nipple.

An ungentlemanly word suddenly rumbled from Éomer King's throat, so startled was he by the sensual touch. Within moments his shirt lay discarded on the floor, your back made contact with the mattress, and there he was, leaning over you, bare from the waist up to your hungry eyes. You gave yourself an extra second to appreciate the sight before hooking a hand over his nape to yank him back into a kiss. The fervor in his response left you writhing and whimpering and completely vulnerable in your weakness. 

A deep haze settled over you as you began to lose yourself to the pleasure of his ministrations. With every inch of you, you wanted this, and the way your body reacted to his every action, shaking in desperation for more, would surely tell him that. And yet… yet as you felt his fingers grope for the fastenings of your dress, felt his palm brush the back of your knee to your thigh, felt his hardness press against your hip… something inside of you jerked in reawakened panic.

“Éomer. W-wait.”

So soft was the protest, you were not even sure you had said the words aloud. But almost immediately, Éomer stopped and pulled back. He took one look at you, your disheveled state, and whatever expression lay on your face, and he sat up fully, turning away, dragging your heart out of your chest with him.

“Éomer, please. I am… I just…”

“No, I understand and I agree. To carry on would be unwise.”

He rubbed both hands roughly over his face, shaking away the stupor induced by his desire.

“All these years I have ordered the men to give you the respect you are due. I cannot risk your virtue or reputation now, however long I have wanted this. Wanted you.”

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You are my King, and it is my duty to protect you and your reputation. We must behave prudently.”

He nodded, but still looked so pained you could not help but lift your hand to try to soothe the scowl from his face. He angled his head to kiss the inside of your wrist.

“I will have you,” he muttered, his diverted gaze making it seem more a promise to himself than to you. But when he turned his eyes back on you, the wanton lust pooling in them stirred the heat in your belly. “I will wait for the right circumstances, however long it may take, but I will have you.”

He rose and walked a few steps across the room, perhaps in need of distance from you. As he stood closer to the fireplace, the light illuminated a view so rarely seen by anyone, many people in Rohan had come to believe that Éomer was simply hale and hard of body beyond the limits of mortal men. 

The numerous scars that decorated his body testified to both his fragility and his strength. Many of his wounds had been tended to by you on the battlefield, carrying terrible memories that were now also moments of pride and achievement that you shared with him. 

Éomer seemed to feel your intent gaze upon him, and he stretched out a hand to you, beckoning you to rejoin him. As soon as you were within reach, he wrapped his arms around you again, drawing you against him, sighing contently as your touch drifted over the bare skin of his chest and shoulders.

Your hand moved with intention, skimming down to his lower abdomen, probing carefully for the large scar you knew sat just below his ribcage. That injury was less than two years old. It still amazed you how it had managed to heal with little issue, under the constant strain of the many violent battles Éomer fought in since. 

So close. A chill ran through you as the memory rose unbidden: you pressing down hard to staunch the bleeding, screaming for someone to help carry the barely conscious Marshal to the nearest shelter, where you could safely attempt to clean and suture the wound. If the orc blade had sunk in only a fraction of an inch deeper, it would have been beyond anyone's power to save him. You came too close to losing him that day.

Eomer's lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he interrupted your reminiscence with a whisper. “How can you still doubt that we belong together, when already you are part of me?” 

Your fingers passed over several other scars from injuries you had tended to over the years, and came to rest over the tattoo on his upper right arm. The black dragon curled around the edge of his shoulder was identical in design and location to the mark borne by every rider in your Éored. Your possession of that dragon mark bound you to Éomer intimately, but also defined your role in his life. Sharing his bed, or even being with him just once, was not your place.

“None of these give me any right to claim you,” you said softly. “You must still marry. And it is your duty to marry well.”

He caught your elbow as you started to move your hand away, and guided it back to slide over his waist, to rest over the scar once more, willing you to hold fast to the memory it carried, and hold fast to him.

“What does it mean to marry? Is it not just the giving of one's entire self--mind and body, heart and soul--to another?”

He hooked a finger underneath your chin, urging your downcast gaze to rise and meet his.

“How am I to dispose of things that are no longer in my possession? I have long been taken, solely and utterly, by you.”

And with that gaze he set upon you, you wondered: how many glances must have he given you in secret all these years, with eyes that burned with something more than the devotion of one comrade-in-arms to another? What willful blindness had you clung to for years, for you not to have noticed it?

“I must fulfill my duties to Rohan, this is true. But not even a king can be asked to do the impossible.”

“But to wed a great king to a lowly servant--” You shook your head. “Many would argue that is the real impossibility.”

A new expression akin to anger flashed across Éomer’s face. Before you could wonder what you might have done wrong, he dropped to his knees before you, both knees, his hands wrapped tightly around yours.

“My lord!” you cried, aghast that he would debase himself, even in private. You tried to force him back up, but he would not budge.

“Never speak of yourself as lowly again,” he admonished. “King or peasant, there is nothing more lowly or humbled than a man so wretchedly in love, as I am with you.”

“Éomer…” You sank to the floor with him. “If only things were so simple. I wish it could all happen as you say, but I just do not see how. I do not know what can be done.”

“Let me hold your love for a while longer, and wait for me,” he said gently. “That is all I ask. The rest is mine to accomplish. As long as your heart is mine, and I know you have given it to me freely, I will fight for my right to keep it.”

You felt his grip around your fingers grow tense in the long seconds of silence that followed. At last, you brought his knuckles to your lips, kissing the hands you adored with such devotion.

“When you leave, you shall take my heart with you,” you whispered into his palm. “But I fear it will be a greater challenge than you believe, to keep others from wresting such an unsuitable offering from your hands.” 

“They may certainly try, if they wish to test me.” The ice in his tone unsettled you, even though that veiled threat was certainly not for you, while the warm caress on your cheek was. “Not for a moment will I appear unclear or undecided when it comes to my intentions towards you. I will never make that mistake again.”

“B-but the Council of Eorl. The lords…”

“They answer to the King,” Éomer interrupted. “Do not privileges, as well as duties, come with this crown? Trust me. Please.” He bowed to rest his forehead against yours. “While we are parted, I will prove to you that it can be done, that I will do whatever I must to marry you, and to honor and protect you thereafter.”

“Marry?” you murmured. The idea still seemed no more than a ludicrous fantasy. But then Éomer kissed you again, deeply, as though determined to memorize the taste of your lips, urging you to focus on the present moment. 

Because he was yours, even if just for that night. Even if by dawn, it could all crumble under the pressures of the world outside these walls. Éomer loved you, and held you in such high regard to want you as his wife and queen. You would swear to anyone that this knowledge alone was already a dream fulfilled. 

And yet. If you were brave enough to hope, maybe…just maybe, this would not be the last impossibility to come true for you. 

* * *

They do not know. Hundreds of Gondor’s citizens bearing streamers and flowers lined the streets of Minas Tirith that morning to join King Elessar in sending off the departing Eorlingas. But it occurred to Éomer how strange it felt that none of them had any awareness of a matter that was not only monumental for him personally, but carried significant consequences for all of Rohan.

Soon that will change, the young king vowed to himself. Soon his Council will hear the truth, and afterward all of Rohan, and then the rest of their allies. But for the moment, discretion--no matter how bitter the pretense tasted. 

No one except for Lord Boromir and his betrothed, the lovely Lady Aerdis, who both stood next to her, understood what truly lay underneath the courteous gestures exchanged between the King of Rohan and his shield-maiden. A simple bow, an exchange of a few words, and a locking of gazes that was all too brief. Had they not spent that one evening together, Éomer would have remained trapped in the false belief of her indifference towards him. The memory of her kisses would have to suffice for a while, and he could only hope he had given her enough to remember him by, as well. 

He brushed the edge of his hand over his lips just as he turned away, and forced his feet to carry him down the line of assembled well-wishers. 

A noticeable hush descended on the crowd of onlookers as Éomer came to the end of the road where, closest to the ruins of the Great Gate, the King of Gondor himself met him, flanked by none other than Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, and his only daughter.

“Lady Lothíriel.” As Éomer took the hand she courteously offered him and brushed a kiss on her fingers, he became aware of the wan smiles that surrounded them, and the unsubtle tittering of a few ladies watching. “Your presence this morning is an unexpected and most delightful gift.”

Lothíriel was astonishingly beautiful indeed, with such radiant grace and sweet smiles, that it would not have surprised Éomer if many citizens of the White City came out just to catch a glimpse of her. “I wish you, Lady Éowyn, and all your men a safe journey, your Grace,” she said. “And may you have great success in your labors, so that we can soon celebrate your speedy return.”

“You are kind, my lady. I certainly hope for the same,” replied Éomer. “We leave behind treasure beyond price here and shall be eager to return for our own.”

Two Rohan lords had already swooped in to engage Imrahil in quiet conversation, and only stepped aside when Éomer himself approached to exchange farewells. Éomer’s admiration for the Prince only grew the more he learned about him and spent time with him, but the unabashed thirst of his counselors for Dol Amroth’s friendship irritated him. Yet another issue he intended to settle in the ordering of his House’s affairs. 

Finally, Éomer came before Elessar, who embraced him tightly and honored him with a bow, from one king to another. “Worry not, my brother,” the man once called Aragorn said quietly to him. “I shall see to it that they are cared for, these ones whom you so dearly love.”

He smiled at the look of mixed wonder and apprehension on Éomer’s face, and dipped his head in another show of reassurance and of farewell.

With that, the Rohirrim set off on the North-way in a procession over a mile long, accompanied by the fanfare from the people that continued to line the road stretching across Pelennor. Countless flags in a multitude of colors and sigils from the different regions of Gondor fluttered in the air, and from every direction, enthusiastic cheering and waving followed the Riders across the fields.

At the head of the procession, behind his standard bearer and with Éowyn at his side, Éomer quickly fell into a brooding silence that did not escape his sister’s notice. 

“I truly did not think I would ever see the day when the two of you would be willingly separated,” she said lightly. When Éomer looked at her with raised eyebrows, she shrugged. “I am sure you have good reasons for choosing her to stay behind with our uncle.” 

“Many reasons,” Éomer grunted. 

Éowyn regarded him thoughtfully. “Has the time finally come when you would allow yourself to be open with me about these reasons? And the other concerns weighing on your mind and heart? It is just you and I now, Éomer,” she said softly, stretching out her hand to him.  “I may not have uncle’s experience or Théodred’s cunning, but I love you beyond words, and would do anything to see you happy. Let me help you.”

Éomer smiled at this, and reached over to take her hand and squeeze it. “Perhaps I can aspire to the happiness you have found with Lord Faramir.”

“Having my affections stolen by a High Man was not what I aspired to,” said Éowyn, trying to look annoyed but unable to hide the blush on her cheeks. “But love, it seems, is the wildest beast of all. It will not be tamed, or bridled, or even reasoned with. It goes where it wills. Éomer…” Éowyn’s sweet face turned stern. “You have suffered enough, and have been forced to carry so many burdens, not least of all our uncle’s crown, which I know you never wanted.”

“It is my honor to take the throne in Uncle and Théodred’s stead,” Éomer said firmly. “And why do you make assumptions about the things I want?”

“I know who it is you have wanted, for a long time now,” Éowyn said with a stout confidence that took Éomer aback. “You are discreet, brother. But I have watched you and looked out for you, more closely than you realize.”

Éomer shook his head. “I am still learning the many ways I have been underestimating you, Éowyn. Soon I shall believe myself unworthy of your care or help.”

“Someone has to care for you, during the frequent times you would not.” Éowyn glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still out of hearing range of the rest of his Éored. “Especially now that you have left her behind.” 

Éomer pressed his lips in a tight line and returned his gaze to the road ahead. “I will be back,” he said. “There is much to do in Rohan before then, but with Uncle waiting in the Hallows, I can hardly afford to dawdle or delay.” 

And she is waiting. Éomer caught a glimpse of his sister’s suppressed smile that told him she had already thought the same thing. Another person with strong opinions to contend with.

Éomer spurred Firefoot forward to signal the standard bearer, who promptly blew one quick blast on his horn. As the King took off in a steady gallop, the thunder of hooves rose behind him as nearly a thousand other Rohirrim picked up their pace to match his, drowning out the excited shouts of the Gondorians that started them off at last to their journey home.

Men Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @konartiste @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @quickslvxrr @scyllas-revenge @talkdifferently6 @emmanuellececchi @ass-deep-in-demons @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @alwayssevvy

For more SotWK Fanfiction: Fanfiction Masterlist

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

SotWK HC Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk fanfiction #eomer #eomer x reader #eomer fanfiction #rohan #lotr #eomer x you #eomer eadig #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #sotwk fic: taken #boromir

[fizzyxcustard]

One Night.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, sexual references, angst, heartbreak, insecurity.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "You spend the night with Thorin, and then out of insecurity, you leave him." Requested by @lathalea. Timeframe of post-BOTFA requested by @sotwk

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin was lay beside you, his breathing slow. You watched his chest rise and fall. His dark eyelashes fluttered and his eyes moved beneath their lids. He had fallen asleep not long after your final round of love making. 

You sighed. He was so beautiful, and didn’t even know it. 

The night had become full of tension, which had followed his coronation celebration. Of course you attended, being a close friend of the new king. For many months and you had travelled alongside him, helping and fighting for him to re-take the mountain kingdom of Erebor. Thorin had taken you aside, complimenting you on your attire for the celebration, his blue eyes alight for you. Your first kiss had been outside the main hall, in a cold, empty hallway. Everything else that had followed was back in his bed chamber. The two of you had snuck away, hand in hand, still stealing secret kisses along the hallways. 

Never before had you ever been touched in such a way as how Thorin touched you. His hot skin sent intense vibrations through you. His gaze made your heart thunder, and pulsate in other parts of your body, acknowledging just how aroused you were. His voice made sighs slip off your tongue so effortlessly. 

You kept your eyes on him as he slept, recollecting the beautiful memories of him opening his heart, soul and body to you. When he had first slipped inside you, he had been over you, his large hands holding your legs open. You had welcomed him so freely in those moments. However, in your second round of pleasure seeking, you had climbed on top of him. He was laid out beneath you, vulnerable, offering it all. Those hands had been clamped on your hips, guiding your movement as the two of you ascended higher towards that wonderful, earth shattering climax. The third and final time, Thorin had been behind you. His lips remained on your neck and shoulder, showing you that even when he could not see your face, he still adored you and admired your beauty. 

This was all wrong. Thorin was the most amazing man you had ever met. And you were just mediocre. Nothing special or of substantial value. You looked upon his sleeping form, studying his slim lips which peeped from beneath his moustache. His beard was neatly trimmed, despite him now growing it longer after reclaiming Erebor. That was a promise he had made many years ago. Once the mountain was re-claimed and he would grow his beard back long, as was custom with the Longbeard Dwarves. 

Slowly, and you slipped out of bed. There was an ache in your chest. You loved Thorin so much more than you could ever express, but you were not worthy of his hand. A royal Dwarf deserved someone of standing and position, not a commoner like yourself. 

Tears fell down your cheeks, reminding you of the man you were originally pledged to many years ago. He had told you he loved you, showered you with gifts, but made it known through his behaviour that you meant very little to him. His actions did not speak louder than his words. And, of course, his attention then swept elsewhere. Thorin would no doubt do the same. Such a beautiful soul would never cherish you and mean it! If this man from your past could not love you, then surely Thorin couldn’t either. 

But you had never been touched, kissed and made love to in such a way as that! Every movement made you quake beneath Thorin’s touch, and his whispers of adoration made you shiver. Maybe he just knew how to please women and had rehearsed the words many times. 

You re-dressed and slipped out of the chamber, giving Thorin one last glance. The ache hit you hard once again and you placed your hand on your mouth, stifling the uncontrollable sobs. 

The halls were quiet and dark, with only the faint light of torchlight guiding your way. And by the time you made it back to your room, you grabbed a quill, ink and parchment. Your hand shook as you tried to write, which meant that your normally laced handwriting became more squiggled. A tear fell onto the parchment, splashing, and caused a swirl of black ink to form under your signature. 

***

Thorin woke, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He looked up at the ceiling of the room and sighed, recollecting the evening before. And as soon as he saw your face in his mind’s eye, he turned to see you had disappeared. He called your name into the gloom. 

A dread hit him and his stomach twisted into a hard knot. Something was wrong. 

Why would you disappear like this? Even though you could have just slipped back to your own bed chamber, Thorin felt something in the depth of his very being that told him that he would not find you there. 

Thorin pulled on a robe, tying it at his waist, and made his way to your room, his mind full of questions. He didn’t even knock as he got to your door and let himself in, finding the room empty. A lump swelled in his throat. He approached your desk. A candle had been lit, and there under the flickering light, was a piece of parchment. 

My dearest Thorin, 

I cannot remain here. I do not belong. I will never be enough for you, my love. Go and find happiness. May Mahal bless you. 

The letter was simple. 

Thorin crumpled the letter in his hands, feeling a whole array of emotion wash over him. Terror and frustration seemed to form the knot in his stomach, which was now gaining momentum. Only the night before and Thorin had been on the verge of offering everything to you, a life together. That was all Thorin wanted. You, in every way. He thought that you had been willing to give yourself to him. You had even told him you loved him, shivered at his touch, become undone beneath him. The two of you had panted, sweat, groaned against each other. How could he just let all of that go? 

He would not let you go. 

He could not. 

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @luna-xial @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @rachel1959 @mrsdurin @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @for-fuck-sake-im-alive

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart @emmyspov @dumbassunderthemountain

Middle-earth tag list: @mismaeve @sotwk @emmyspov @valkyrie-of-the-light

The Hobbit tag list: @flowerniche

#richard armitage #thorin oakenshield #Thorin #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin x You #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield Fic #The Hobbit Fic

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Happiness - Part 2

Fandom: LOTR

Ship: Eomer x F!Reader

Trope: Arranged marriage

Note: Reader is Elfhelm's daughter and I invented a lot for what I didn't know so probably A LOT of mistakes.

Fun facts: I only wrote this extended fic for this one sex scene during their wedding night. This gif is my favourite thing to look at right now. It's late and I'm tired so.

Word counts: 4 090

Warnings: Dealing with grief, loved one's deaths, depression, SMUT at some point, poverty, war's aftermath, diplomatic relations, pregnancy, blood, miscarriage

Tags: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

During the long weeks leading to the wedding, your days were either spent with your mother or Gera, taking over in your mother’s absence.

Indeed, thanks to your father’s insistence, she had been appointed as the wedding organizer. Or something akin to it. She was fussing and busying herself like she had never before, not even for Moira’s wedding. Your mother was a force of nature, but she could be a lot and having Gera was a good contrast to your mother’s buzzing energy.

First, the chiefmaid had kept you company or helped you find your way around the place. Quickly, she became a big part of your days. You visited orphanages with her and brought food to those in need in Sofia’s company. Over these shared times, she became a godmother of sorts - and her daughter a friend - always present when you needed them, and you always there when they needed you.

“Milady, I do believe it is most improper for you to work with the cooks in the kitchen.”

It had taken you almost three whole days of imploring her before you had managed to make Gera yield.

Gera did not believe in such a fantasy as fun. It was working or resting, no in-between. With that statement in mind, she had still followed you to the kitchen while you were asking questions to the bewildered pastry chefs meeting the future queen in such an unofficial manner.

When she asked for what purpose you wanted to cook, the word “fun” came out of your mouth. “To forget” would have been a more accurate description. Eomer’s attitude towards you had become erratic and even avoidant. You could not know why as he would not give you straight answers, always mentionning something he needed to take care of. The gestures of affection he had towards you were limited to him occasionally kissing your forehead and offering you his arm while walking. You had not had a good walk in days, the weather going grim with your mood.

The plates you were cooking always ended up given to people in need.

After that first expedition, it had become a habit of yours to go down to the kitchen to help, a few hours here and there when you could.

But, for every effort you made, Eomer seemed to have forgotten about you. Your actions were out of boredom, but if it could benefit the poorer all the better. He was always busying himself with new economic plans or diplomatic correspondence. He would not tell you about any of those things either and you figured it would take his mind off of things to talk about more mundane things. Like cooking. Suffice to say, it did not work.

So, when he stepped into the kitchen one day, leaving Gera to usher the poor cooks away, you were surprised, to say the least.

“Milady, you do know it is most improper for a future queen to wander around without an escort.

It had to be a trick of the mind though, Eomer did not feel that way and he had made that clear, spending all of his time away from you. Telling you about her. Amongst the fleeting moments of affection you had shared, he had talked to you about Enora. About the woman she was. It felt as a much needed talk for him. For you, it left you questioning everything. Even his commitment to you. Especially his commitment. It was clear that he wanted to keep you out. What for, that was a question you did not have the answer to, as many others when it came to him.

I had Gera until you arrived, my lord.”

He called your name in a soft commanding tone. You could feel the embrace you were missing in his words.

“I am sorry, that you find no suitable distractions in the castle. Nevertheless, you can not come in here. It is not your place. Nor mine as it turns out.”

You sighed. This day was bound to happen. It was improper, and that was that. People would talk. Even he had to uphold his status. He had to, even if he did not want to. Just like you soon enough.

“I know. I am aware of that. I just… Needed space. From the wedding’s preparation, from my mother - I love her but she’s hovering a lot these days, maybe… maybe even from myself. I cannot hear myself think these days.”

You could have sworn his cheeks took a hint of pink as you looked at him from under your lashes. Unbeknown to you, he had grown quite fond of hearing what you were doing and who you were doing it for, your good deeds to his people never going unheard. The cakes going to orphaned children in need, bread to the beggars in the streets, when you were not willingly spending time with the servants, giving a hand where you could. He admired your dedication and kindness a little more every day, despite himself, and his lost lover’s shadow.

-Yet, you do not share that with me. We have not talked much or been in the same room for longer than a few moments since the engagement has been announced. Were you trying to avoid me?”

“I know. I feel the same way.

Over the weeks, your presence had been missing. The little things he would have loved to be doing with you. Your hand on his arm at the engagement party imprinted in his mind. He missed you. All of you. Eomer had thought himself more of a practical person, reasonable, and smart. In this case, he had thrown everything out of the window. Where his first fiancée enhanced his duties, you made up new ones. You were so different, her and you. You could not compare to her and she could not compare to you. She was gone and you were alive. So alive, he yearned for you in a way he had forgotten. You made him feel again.

His head bowed, his eyes cast down. Words were escaping him. He had thought long and hard about this relationship.

“Yes. I was trying to avoid you.”

Your anger was only growing within you. You were frustrated by his actions but could not blame him for them. When it came to Eomer, you had become blind. As soon as you had recognized it for what it was, it felt easier to smile when thinking of him even if he was not thinking of you. No matter what he would do, you knew you would forgive, for you would love him. From that first day until the last.

His voice was lower now, as one of a child being chastised.

“I was afraid.”

His steps brought him next to you, only a meter or two from where you were. Just as he lowered his voice, you softened yours.

“How could you be afraid? I am just a woman.”

His hand took yours and you released a sigh you did not know you were holding. In the back of your mind, you willed your memory to keep those moments tucked away safely. You were sure they would not happen again.

“A woman in grief. A woman I chose. A woman I can not seem to care for as she needs.”

He closed in on you, a mere breath away now, his palm a gentle reminder of his presence on the side of your face, your eyes closed for your own sake. You could not drown in him. You would not. Not when it meant heartbreak.

“Sometimes, I try not to seek you out.”

You could not look at him, but from under your lids, you could feel his breath fanning over your cheek, his head bowed to you in silent prayer. The question burned your lips.

“Why not?”

His hands were now cradling your face, your eyes forced to look at him. His brows furrowed, lips parted in quiet stillness, the way he looked at you, mercy and hurt in the eye, made your heart clench in despair.

“I am guilty of selfishness. When I am with you, I forget. I forget what she looked like and who she was. When I am with you, the ghost of her disappears and I don’t know if…”

His lips parted, as if to say something again, were an invitation you could not refuse. Pushing a little you grabbed him by his collar and kissed him with everything you had. His hands found your waist, making you pull away brutally.

-What for?

“I am sorry, my lord, I…

-The… Just now. And… I did not wish to make you forget. You loved her. Why would I wish to erase her from your memories? She’s a part of you. But, I am selfish too, and…”

You took a deep breath. The feelings you had wanted to snuff out were too strong now. They had to be faced and felt.

-I promise.”

“If you are feeling the way you tell me you are, then I need to know you will be there fully when you’re with me. I… Eomer, I cannot compete with a ghost.

There had been no hesitation in his voice.

He grabbed your face in his hands, and kissed you again, slowly, with eternity in his mind.

The day of the wedding was the worst. You could not see each other all day, it had you both on edge. You were nervous beyond what you could handle, your mother feeding you sweets and Gera swiftly pushing the maids out of your room. You were sure you would suffocate.

Every day it was something new. One day it was a brush of his lips below your ear. The other, his fingers linking with yours discreetly. Another one, he pulled you into an alcove, kissing you senseless, breathless, leaving marks on the exposed skin of your neck.

Once you walked down the aisle, your father’s arm securing and anchoring you, your nerves disappeared. Your father’s teary eyes as he handed you over, almost made you cry, but Eomer’s fond looks shook you to your core. Only then did you notice that the sword he had at his side kept his hand from shaking. A genuine smile on your lips, you had covered his hands with your own, wishing to settle him. The emotion in the man had been threatening to overwhelm him. He had hold onto you for comfort as you wished he would.

The ceremony and the festivities had gone by so fast, it had felt like the blink of an eye. Your parents were dancing and seemed happier than you had seen them in a very long time. They were smiling and laughing, bickering so much, you felt happy for them too. Eomer’s hand surprised you, sneaking under the table and linking his fingers with yours. He leaned down and kissed your cheek, before kissing your lips, your hand cradling his face the cold metal of your wedding band only making it harder to stop. You were his. To love and to hold, forever. How could he have been so lucky, he would never know. But he was willing and wanted to make you understand that. Your doubts and need for reassurance, although not voiced, were clear to him, in the soft moments you shared, a hint of anxiety always taking you over. He never wanted you to doubt his love and attachment for you.

Quickly enough, the night came to an end and the moment to go back to your chambers arrived. The thought of him sharing a bed with you brought a new kind of warmth to your body. The past few days your imagination had been running wild. Not that you would own up to it in front of him. Ever.

Upon entering the room, the door closing behind you, you stepped back until you were met with the wooden surface. It was your salvation when Eomer showed himself, barefoot and naked from the waist up. You wondered if your legs were not going to give out.

In the semi-darkness, silence overcoming everything, he feared you might have swallowed your tongue. In truth, you thought you had, your breathing becoming laboured and uneven.

He called your name, as you were staring, eyes blown while looking at his chest and the expanse of his shoulders, the grave notes in his voice only eliciting more heat to bloom in your abdomen. You bit your lips, not hearing him until he grabbed your shoulders.

“Hm?”

He chuckled, his knuckles caressing the side of your jaw, goosebumps left in his path. Your hands were clasped behind your back, not knowing what to do nor how to do it. Unease took hold of you where there had been only anticipation before. Eomer noticed. He stepped back, looking at you with hunger. He swallowed discreetly. You looked magnificent. His own chest was raising and falling rapidly, the adrenaline in his veins thining his patience to a thread. It made you feel desired and loved more than you could fathom.

“My love, what is the matter?”

“I-… I’ve never been with…a man before…”

You sighed, the endearment on his lips only making it harder to speak.

Fearing you might take offence if he said he knew - even though he did know -, Eomer kissed your temple trying to soothe you. His smile mirrored your own, as his hand slid behind your back, bringing you closer to him. His eyes kept looking into your own.

“I will show you if you wish.”

His lips a mere whisper away from your own, you only nodded. The span of his hands covered your hips as he kissed you. You could feel the laces of your dress coming undone thanks to his handy work, tender kisses caressing the length of your throat, and Eomer holding you against him in a gentle grip. Once the pool of cloth at your feet, your light under-dress was the only barrier between him and you. His kisses were growing heavier with every passing minute, the gentle hold he had turning into him trying to melt his body with yours. Without a word he hoisted you up in his arms, carrying you towards the bed. As he laid you down, your eyes went to the shadows of the fire on the wall before coming back to Eomer, his hair undone, tickling your bare shoulder in the dark. The space above his collarbone, the bridge of his nose, his fingers against your throat, everything illuminated by the feverish light.

Before he looked, his lips against your own he quietly asked “Is this alright…wife?”

Before you could dwell on it, he claimed your mouth for his own, his chest to yours. Your fingers found themselves in his hair, earning a grunt from him, making your core clench and your hand stop. He smirked at that as if he knew what had happened. His palm pulled up your last garment until the birth of your hips, almost revealing yourself to him.

A “Yes” escaped your tongue before you could keep it against the roof of your mouth. After all why would you?

The sweet nothing in his mouth made you whimper out of nowhere.

He helped you out of your dress, leaving the soft caress of his palms up and down your chest, the planes of his hands down your stomach and your back, open-mouthed kisses on your breasts leaving you arching into him, struggling to breathe and how he could be everywhere all at once you would never know, but you would not have stopped it for the world. His mouth trailed down your stomach, always looking at you, always making sure you were alright, just the right amount of overwhelming from him. When he reached the apex of your thighs, you noticed his bare ass in the flickering light of the fire. You swore under your breath. It only made him laugh against you.

“See something you like, princess?”

An idea came to you.

-Hmm?”

“Queen.

You propped yourself onto your elbows, looking him dead in the eye.

-Indeed… then I should treat you as such, should I not?”

“I am not a princess.

His mischievous eyes were new to you. You did not mind them one bit.

You moaned loudly when his tongue flattened against your clitoris. His eyes narrowed and he kept on going, a thirsty man finding a source to drink from. Your body arched of its own accord, full cries escaping you. Something deep in your belly was threatening to snap when he stopped. Concern was etched on his face, his lips gleaming in the dim light as he reached for your face. You shivered at the sight.

“I am alright, husband.”

You nestled your face in his palm, kissing the calloused fingers one by one.

“What about you?”

His body settled next to yours, and you could feel him against your thigh as you turned. Your mouth ran dry at the thought of him inside you.

“I am content.”

He pushed a hair out of your face, feeling the heat of your breath against his nose. What a sight you were. Pupils blown, lips swollen by his ministrations, your skin reacting to the harsh touch of his beard, a path down your body he started following with his fingers down and down again between your thighs. As he met your core, you held onto his shoulder, whimpering again, biting your lip in a silent plea for pleasure. Despite it all, you managed to utter a question.

“Only content?”

His head in the crook of your neck, you felt him stop, now looking straight at you with an adoration you were sure you could not grow tired of. You felt his fingers as he entered you. One, then the other. The soft burn of the stretch kept you from saying anything, your nails digging into his back, his hair now hovering above you, kisses raining on you. He did not answer you, only moving his fingers back and forth until you could not feel the burn of them anymore. He had you rocking your hips onto his hand, filthy sounds surrounding you, the thought of ever leaving this room having left you entirely, drunk on him and only him. Only then did he answer.

“I could not be happier than in your arms.”

“Tonight is not about me. But if you ask…” half a smile crossed his features, as you were marvelling at him, sweating and hungry for more. You never thought anyone could look at you with such reverence in their eyes.

Your heart clenched. Your hips stilled between his hands before he pulled your legs apart.

“If any of this hurts you, please tell me.”

As he pulled himself out, you could feel it down your thighs. It made you hungry for more, somehow. The emptiness he had left behind was soon replaced by the warmth of the sheets on you, his arm sneaking around your waist. He pulled you to him, your head resting on his chest, eyes weary and tired. He did not say a word, the pad of his thumb tracing the column of your spine in lazy strokes and you could hear his heart under you ever so erratic becoming soft and in rhythm with yours. Never could you have imagined this to happen to you. It was nothing short of a miracle, that he found you and you him. You let yourself bask in it for a little while, the shadows of the room luring you into a daydream you longed for deep in your soul.

He laid himself on top of you, his weight never suffocating you, his eyes ever so inquisitive. You nodded slowly, fingers weaving in his hair making him close his eyelids under your care. He placed himself between your legs, your folds welcoming him in a warm embrace. As he pushed into you, a tear escaped you, a dull pain at the pit of your stomach appearing. It stopped with the movement of his hips against yours, ever so gentle, his irises never leaving your face, forehead against yours, before leaving blazed kisses on your skin. Something feral woke up deep inside you, your hand clawing at his back, enticing him to keep going. His groans and moans were echoing in your chest, when he bit down on your shoulder with a swift bite, drawing blood to the surface. The heel of his hand was gripping tightly your ass, moving your legs until they were locked at the ankle behind his back. You felt a renewal of pleasure as he moved your legs higher, visibly impossible for him to stop. His hips were sure to leave bruises on your own. Soon after, you met your end, in a blinding white light, clenching around him. Then he could not stop himself from rutting into you, leaving his seed deep inside you.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?”

The question was asked as if in pleading, praying the bubble you were in would not burst with its utterance. Eomer merely smiled, reassuring you. He grabbed your fingers, kissing your knuckles one after the other in a tender gesture.

“Both.”

His cheeky grin made you smile despite yourself. Your eyebrows rose of their own accord, not able to hide your surprise. Amused by his newly found confidence, you laughed and kissed him deeply, weaving your hand with his. When you tried to pull back, his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and a shiver ran down your spine, eyes wide open. The warmth you felt before, came again. You pulled yourself up and as you were laying on top of him, kissed him as deeply as you could. He did not stop you, his hands on your hips again, where you could feel the friction leaving him hard again. The power you had over him was so obvious. It would have been a crime not to use it to your advantage.

On instinct, a hand to the headboard to support yourself, you dragged your core up the length of him never looking away from his eyes. This new side of you was a pleasant surprise he was delighted to discover. A grunt and an insult passed his lips as the movement dragged down, before starting again, and again, and again. Seeing him willingly relent his control into your hands did things to you, you never thought yourself capable of. Abruptly, his grip on your hips tightened in a desperate gesture to stop your actions.

-…inside me.”

“As much as this is pleasant, I’d rather be…

It had rolled off your tongue so easily. Sultry tone and all. Eomer wondered how he would cope if you were to disappear from his life, taking all you were away from him. The answer never came as he snapped back to you, guiding you down on him. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your back arching into his skillful hands, while he kept on guiding you, the movement of your hips made him jerk upwards deeper into you. Making you cry out in pleasure was his new favourite thing to do, he believed it to his very core. The little sighs, your heaving chest, your hands clasped on his, right on the dips at your hips, the full-out cries, the whimpers, the way you felt as you desperately chased your climax, everything turned him on more and more with each passing minute. The worst part was the way you looked at him, with only desire dilating your pupils, adoration in your every movement when he pulled you down for a sloppy, messy, heated kiss. Forehead against his, your hips moving on instinct, the hot breaths shared between you, all of it turning feverish upon reaching the high you were seeking, before it all snapped, a heat leaking into you as he pushed deeper than before.

You stayed there, relieved, shivering in pleasure. He was still, inside of you, not willing to let you go just yet.

“Sleep now. We have all the time in the world, wife.”

You did not even bother to meet his eyes, as yours were already closing.

“No. I want to be pregnant. Now.”

Eomer laughed and it shook your whole body. Barely registering his kiss on your temple, you fell asleep as he had asked you to, in his arms, protected and content.

Next and last part

#happiness series #eomer x reader #eomer xf!reader #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #tw: sex

[quillofspirit]

2023 fic recs

If there's one thing to know about me, is that I love to read! and I love to share the good fics, so I figured I would put them all on one list💚

pssst! it's my first time doing anything like this, so if you have recommendations for the format, please do leave them in the comments or drop me a message! thanks xx

Key 🍬 fluff 🧯 spicy 🌡️ smut ⛈️ angst 🌪️ all

For people I have tagged, please let me know if there is anything you’d like me to add or remove — like a link to another account. It’ll be my pleasure☺️

Lord of the Rings (and related)

⛈️🧯Fuck the Forbidden pt. 1 by @entishramblings

Boromir x mermaidfem!oc Teens and Up but read the warnings carefully 9,500 words

Now I want mermaids in everything. why aren’t there mermaids in everything? The descriptions are so well done, everything is so vividly easy to visualize, oh I just loved it.

I am so hyped for pt 2!!

🍬⛈️ Healing Touch by @ass-deep-in-demons

Boromir x fem!oc Teens and Up 4,350 words

My film studies degree was very happy about the descriptions of movement in this one - it’s a little specific but hear me out. It’s much easier to see the actors playing the scene when it’s described this well! THAT ENDING, I have to say I joined Legolas, and I don’t have excuses.

I cannot wait to read the rest of the adventures of Joanna!

🍬 I Might Need to Kiss You by @fizzyxcustard

Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader 400 words

I was squealing, this is so sweet. like the perfect little pick me up when you need a reminder, and Thorin is nothing if not a good king to his subjects 😇

🍬 Sweet Conversations by @glassgulls

Haldir x fem!reader Teens and Up 5,360 words

did I almost break my mouse when I clicked on this? noooo

Would I do it again? approximately 5 times since ☺️

Who doesn’t love sneaking around and kissing pretty elves, especially when they propose the idea so nicely… Just read it, you’re welcome

⛈️🧯Transformed by @sotwk

Thranduil’s son OC x fem!reader Teens and Up 2,400 words

There are at least two werewolves! When I tell you I read it three nights in a row, just to truly catch all the little things that made me go absolutely feral this so lovely to read. Yes, there’s gore (only a little bit) and there’s angst, but there’s also dialogue that would be made into gifs were it a movie.

Pirates of the Caribbeans

🌪️Catch the Wind by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

James Norrington x fem!oc Explicit 418,000 words

101 chapters of epic, pirates, and sweetness. The definition of you will suffer and you will like it. I finished this in like two days, because I couldn’t put it down, like a child on Halloween night going through their whole bag of candy.

⛈️🍬 Fallen Through Time by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

Catch the Wind AU Mature Ongoing; 34,000 words

12 Chapters so far, but it’s probably going to make me want to read everything about Theodora again. I am very normal about this character. 😌

Other fandoms

🌡️One of Those days by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x fem!reader Explicit 750 words

Sometimes you need to be taken care of, and sometimes its easier to take care of others.

🍬Patience by @velvetcloxds

Charlie Swan x fem!reader Just straight cuteness 600 words

A cute yet serious conversation with Charlie

🌡️That Takes Trust Darlin by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x transmasc!reader Explicit 1,950 words

It takes a lot of trust to tell a person about your desires, and even more when you spend your time catching villains.

🌪️ What Happens After You? by StrengthBeforeWeakness

Ominis Gaunt x fem!oc Mature 219,000 words

A badass Ravenclaw, sweet sweet Garreth, and dark!Sebastian. I am tempted to say it’s almost a Hogwarts Legacy AU because the lore in this fic is so incredible, it feels new again.

These are my headers and dividers, please do not use them.

#fic rec #lotr #lord of the rings #haldir #haldir x reader #lotr fanfic #Lord of the rings fanfiction #haldir fanfiction #gelir thranduilion #sotwk oc #gelir x reader #the hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin x reader #Thorin x fem!reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #potc #pirates of the caribbean #potc fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #James Norrington #James Norrington x fem!oc #charlie swan #charlie swan x reader #charlie swan fanfiction #charlie swan fic #jason todd #red hood #red hood smut #jason todd x reader

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I am absolutely smitten with the way you write fics and headcanons about Éomer, Théodred, all the Rohirrim, and everything Rohan-related, and I just came here to put on official record that you are THE top-tier Rohan Specialist in my book.

Please please please keep doing what you do, and please tag me in all the fics. Please don't keep your genius hidden in your Google Docs and keep sharing with the starving. XD

Here is the official SotWK Éomer chibi (art commissioned from my friend @baek-art) as my weird little thank you. <3

This is such incredibly generous praise that I almost hesitate to share it but a) I don’t want to deny anyone else a good look at the most adorable-est little Éomer that I’ve ever seen and b) I don’t want to miss my opportunity to publicly thank @sotwk , whose opinion I so truly value and who does SO much for the Tolkien tumblr community by both writing the most amazing stories and incredible HCs and also boosting and cheerleading others along the way. I would never have posted anything here in the first place without inspiration from her, and I know for a fact that’s true for others as well. So if anyone hasn’t been reading Taken (whaaat???) or enjoying the most intricate and compelling and intriguing backstories for the whole royal family of Mirkwood, then…you should fix that now!

In the meantime, I’ll still be here plugging away at my Rohan stuff and aspiring to be worthy of the kind words and thoughts above! ❤️❤️❤️

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #rohan #asks #this made my fuckin’ week #and look at that little éomer i might have audibly squealed

[scyllas-revenge]

For the writer ask game 11, 14 and 76 (Burn Like Cold Iron but you can do it for any other fic you'd like)

Thank you anon!!

#11. Link your three favorite fics right now

My three favorite fics??? You ask too much! But I'll do my best to pick a few of my many many favorites:

Taken, an ongoing Eomer/reader fic with some truly wonderful amounts of yearning, by @sotwk

Black Shroud, White Feathers, a criminally underrated gen fic with Boromir, Merry, Pippin, and a lot of angst, by Icarus_is_flying

Anything But This, a Boromir/reader fic with- you guessed it- more yearning, by @minaturefics

I haven't read any long multichapter fics in way too long so this list is just short stuff. But ask again when I've defeated my executive dysfunction and can focus on longer stuff again!!

#14. how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

I do try to feel a bit of what the characters are feeling so I can visualize the right body language and tone of voice to describe. I can't always draw from personal experiences, but when I wrote a scene involving claustrophobia-induced panic, I thought back to the times I've experienced that (not often, but still memorable). Same with all the scenes of yearning I've written XD I've had a lot of unrequited crushes in my life and that can fuel some pretty emotional scenes

#76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of Burn Like Cold Iron? 

Oh LOTS. I had no idea where this fic was going to go until I was ten chapters in (note: do NOT start a fic like this) so there were a lot of weird places it could have gone, including having other people from the modern world brought to Middle Earth by Saruman, some really egregious and unrealistic use of walkie talkies, and a lot more glimpses into Bee's life in Dallas.

The only one I regret not including was a flashback from Bee's teenage years where she runs into one of the Blue Wizards- Saruman sent him to the modern world once the Blue Wizard realized that Saruman was trying to reach other worlds using the palantir. There wasn't much of a point to this scene, and Bee certainly never learned who this crazy guy all dressed in blue and yelling in a foreign language was or where he came from, so I cut it from the fic.

But I'm still fond of the idea of Bee having three encounters with Middle Earth in her life: one with the Ent-wives, one with the Blue Wizard, and one with her abduction by Saruman. The name Beatrice has a couple of meanings, one of which is thrice-blessed (beata-trice), and I liked the idea of her having three magical encounters with another world (although I doubt she'd call all of them blessings).

I might post that scene as a bonus once the whole fic is done, but again there wasn't much to it. It was more of a fun idea than a cool scene in itself, idk

#answered! #burn like cold iron #lotr fic recs

[laneynoir]

Happy (very late) mothers day @sotwk

Complete.

So... Timelines. They're gone. I set this some where after your fic where Maereth's hurt.

Tw: bad poetry (more like a sketchy rhyme), that for the sake of the plot I'm pretending is adequate.

"Swift step would be advised, oh prince. We have hardly enough time as it is to reach the woods."

Gelir shifts the large obsidian pot in his arms, shooting a glare nearly as sharp as the arrows he carries. "I would remind you oh peasant, that we would have returned home nearly four days hence, had we our mounts."

Darthol swaquks indignantly, "I had no choice but to send the animals away, they were not trained for battle and would have served only as dinner for those orcs in the end. I do wish that I knew they reached safety."

Bright green eyes softening to his year mate's clear concern, the fourth prince of Greenwood the Great quirks a smile. "I'm sure the mares are in good health, and I am glad that you sent them away, if only for the excuse to avoid my eldest brother; he does get so... Finicky about things he takes as his duty."

"Far be it from myself to critique one of our illustrious royalty-"

Here does Gelir let loose a scoffing audible noise of pure disbelief, a sound that would be sure to send his father's youngest advisor into a lecture on manners.

"-yet even I, as a mere peasant know of the steady sense of honour that the crown prince carries. Say, would you like a hand with that?"

He is of course reffering to the potted plant secured in Gelir's arms, though he could only reach two thirds the way around the sparkling black of the stone. "No," he sighs in answer, "I feel I must be the one to carry it. Only, I do not understand why the dwarrow must make everything so... Large."

"Compensating." Darthol supplies, startling a laugh from his companion.

"I have a cousin on mother's side who would be quick to disagree, somthing to do with the size of a dwarve's nose." The cajoling tone is one infrequently heard, and usually only in the presence of his family or yearmate.

Removing his eyes from the road and horizen, the cornhaired elf aprsises the container. "You must admit, it is very pretty. Though I still do not ubderstand why those of Kazad Dúm would craft it of obsidian and not somthing sturdier. One tap is hardly less than it would take to shatter so fragile a thing, regardless of the gold."

Gelir pauses over the questioning words for a moment. "I had though of that, I belive it comes from the friendly rivalry they and their elven neighbors share. With so delecate a plant, they wished to show that they too could provide something of such beauty that it need not protect itself." Here he pauses. "Or somthing of the ilk, Arvellas is a better source of such ponderings."

"And I am sure it has nothing to do with those glances the head of the guild was sending the lady Horiath?"

Gelir gives a highly unprincley snort. "Nay, do you mean that you suspect an attraction betwixt the two noblewomen? Where ever should you have taken such an idea?!"

Darthol grins in silent laughter, but he freezes just as quickly, causing the other to still as well. Both listen carefully, and it is no embelishment to say that the prince of Greenwood swears quite colorfully in three languages that he does not speak.

"Why does it have to be wargs? We couldn't just have some goblins or others of the ilk. It is of course necessary to have the ones with the best sense of smell and feet fleet as our own under normal circumstance." Though his ranting is mostly to bring a smile to Darthol's face, the unreasonably humongous dirt filled pot prevents Gelir from wielding any weapon, must less his bow.

He hears the singing of a bow before the yelp of the cursed creature falling. Though he has already guessed, he nods in return to the classification of the scout.

They make it forward to a pile of rocks before the remainder of the pack shows themselves, Gelir spending longer that he likes attenpting to find a safe place for the black pot (which he is begining to doubt the worth of, he should have just made a card, or breakfast, or anything else that a mother may apriciate).

There are not many of the foul animals, and most fall swiftly to arrows fletched with both red and gold. An orc rider carrying a bow of his own aims for Darthol, targeting the rear of his head.

Turning in time near to late, Gelir sees the arrow loose, watching as if time has slowed as the black iron dart flies through the air.

Gelir has never once in his life screamed. A fact which had worried the nurses at his birth, for when he was taken from the womb, covered in placenta and entierly sighlent, they had thought him dead. Bright eyes shining green, he had been quiet as a falling leaf. Maereth had ignored the strangled cry of one young healer, and demanded that her child be given to her. The moment the child had been olaced in her arms she cried out, "My child yet lives, and shall be my joy. As joy is no loud thing, but may be the stirrings in ones heart in the quiet beauty of the forests" so had Gelir earned his name.

And so has he lost in a moment even the thought of joy. A sounds ripped from his throat that sends a shock through Darthol

Bow prepared he has not time for prayer or though as he lets go the string.

The resounding crack as the arrow near folds into itself in contact with the orc weapon is painful to hear, yet their is no time for calibration. Only a swift wide eyed look from Darthol before the fight is resumed.

Not long after do they leave the piled carcasses boring and make way to the forest, breathing deeply in relief when the greenery is once again over their heads.

It would be dishonest to say that Gelir has never snuck out of the palace, and in doing so, snuck back in. It is however Eru's truth to say that he has never felt so utterly ridiculous, exhausted, dirty, and paranoid.

"I don't think it is going to- get down."

"Well we know that- OH"

Both duck under the flora surounding the gates and whatch as the king and queen stroll down the path, Maereth's voice flowing like a clear brook over the forest.

The two stare for a moment, before Thranduil turn back, and of all the impossibilitys winks at them.

Recovering from the shock, both Ellons stand and resume the trek into the palace, gaining not a few strange looks from various persons of differing status. Gelir did admit, if only to himself, that they did indeed make an odd picture. Having made the decision of discretion, Darthol was walking backward under and holding a sheet to cover the pot and plant.

Pot and plant being awkwardly large, this understandably obstructs the sightlines nearly so much for the peince as his year mateunder the sheet.

"Left now"

"Other left other left!"

"Ouch"

"Oh do shush"

When at last they arrive in the prince's preferred common area, both heave a sigh of relief that the plant is still sound in its dark soil. The relief is cut short by the gasping laughter of both the eldest and youngest Thranduilions.

"What-" a bout of laughter, "in Eru are you two doing?"

Gelir scowls, but it is Darthol who answers. "Just a bit of under the covers plant delivery from your humble subjects, my leige."

"Is that?" Legolas asks staring at the object of offense, sounding wonder struck.

Gelir's expression only softens slightly. "Indeed. Though after countless miles of carrying and caring for it no longer hold so much reverence for the thing."

A whistle sounds softly from the door on the west side of the room, and there stands Turhir, framed by the late afternoon sun and greenery of the courtyard. "If you wish to get rid of that, I shall gladly accept. I do not think I've 'ere seen such a plant, you are sure it's a growing plant?"

"Not on your blades brother, we've put far to much into this gift, Naneth will receive it from my own hand." He gives the brunette a dirty look. "Tis no fault of mine that you were quote: 'ocupied' when the opportunity arose."

"For the child named joy, you are the most dour of us all, Gelir."

Gelir sends a rather impolite gesture to Arvellas before nudging the pot to a corner of the room. "As you say oh wise one. I have been far to long wuthout the luxury of a bath, and mine arms are stuck in a circular position from this thing. I beg you not break the thing while I am away." That last of this is said very pointedly, much to the indignation of Legolas.

"It was one time!"

~

"Eyes closed my queen, you should not spoil the surprise."

Maereth smiles. "I do not seek to do such, and you know this, Ninniel. I am only excited, I have had no chance to see my second youngest since he has returned from his diplomatic mission, though why my love decided to send him, I hace no idea."

Ninniel sighs. "Not all of your children can be so blessed as ambassadors." She grins cheekily though the queen has no way of seeing it. "Leave the woodland and it's creatures to him I say, but if you search for a diplomatic and truthfully tounge, look to the eldest."

"Well as I know, Mellon nín. None of my children are yhe same, and I could not be more grateful for the fact. Now, are you going to tell me what on earth is going on?"

"No, but they will." Ninniel removes tge covering from Maereth's eyes, opening the door to what she then recognizes as the princes' old play room, now tirned into a sitting room.

"Oh- oh my..."

Legolas wraps her in a hug. "Joyous Mother's Day, Nana!"

The area has been painstakingly decorated with shimmering fabrics and various displays of flora. Her five sons and husband stand before her, near a table with the largest cake Maereth has ever seen.

Thranduil pulls his wife gently from the arms of his youngest. "Suprised dear? The children have put much work forth in this endeavor."

She tightens her grip on his arm and speaks louder, so that the others hear as well. "I am indeed suprised. I expected nothing, but should have known that my lovely family would choose to celebrate a holiday of man."

"Come mother, we've presents!" And indeed they did, as maereth soon found.

"Turhir, how is it that I was unaware of your talent in the kitchen?" A valid question, as the towering confection is an utter work of art. At ten tiers, it is iced with as many colours as can be imagined, and there are sculptures made of differing edibles, raging from fondant to rock candy. "Not only do you seek the position as gaurd captain, but also to usurp our cook?"

Blushing brightly at the praise he grins ruefully, "The cook is safe mother, and I cannot claim all credit for this, Legolas helped much with the decorations."

Legolas nodds, "Though I did also make you this Nana." He hands over a small wraped box.

Maereth gently removes the green silk from the outside, before sliding the lid through its grooves. She gasps in delight when the action causes two small birds to pop out and begin twirling around one another. When they still, she repeats the opening movement again, and sure enough they preform the dance again.

"Legolas, this is truly amazing, however did you manage such detail? And the spring system is ingenious, my son!" Legolas joins his brother in the Red Face Department. "Hannon Lee."

Next she receives Mirion's gift, a set of long daggers, crafted flawlessly from mithriel and green stone hard as diamond, but soft as jade. Pulling them from the sheaths, she delights all with a few practice twirls.

Gelir disappears for a moment, only to return with the object of his current distaste, though he sets it very gently before his mother. "I made this not with my own hand, but retrieved the plant from the settlement beside Kazad-Düm, and commissioned the planter from the dwarves." He fidgets uncharacteristically, and waits for the response.

Maereth kneeks before it, and traces the petals. "Is this truly living?" The flowers are in apearance that of a rose, but bloom in a rainbow of colour, all clear crystal and luminescent. The leaves are starlight silver, but for golden threads runing throughout."

"It is."

To hear one of the fair folk laugh is a privilege, musical at its crudest, and at its best, as Queen Maereth's always was, it is remnicant of the song with which the world was sung from. "I should never have belived that you were truly sent on a diplomatic mission. But tell me, are the two ladies courting yet, or still dodging eachother with banter?"

Without expecting an answrr she pulls Gelir into a hug, which he imeadiatly recuperates. Much to Legolas' faux indignation. "Oh sure, when mother wishes a hug it's fine. But I try to claim one and you're all 'mkve your hands or I'll feed them to the wolves'"

At last Arvelass hands her a rolled parchment, tied with gold string. Upon unrolling, she is met with the most beautiful example of Caligrafy she has ever seen, and the words which read:

A mother like an oak tree,

Standing tall, and strong.

Giving to us, life for free,

Gently correcting when we are wrong.

As an acorn must tumble,

Taking it's own life in the ground.

She assists when we do stumble,

With her we are safe and sound.

Beneath the branching shade,

Kept from scorching sun.

Protection she has bade,

For children, every one.

Through the ground roots do twist,

Entwing in our life.

Connected and gentle as the mist,

Our blessed kings wife.

Indeed she gives home to many,

Kingdom's branches welcome all.

She is wise, fair, and canny,

Under her rule, we'll never fall.

In her moments of sickness,

To our best we do guard.

No matter the opponent's quickness,

We strive to protect from every shard.

In storms of wind, heat, water, and snow

She stands ever in grace and power.

Under her she watches grow,

From fern to moss, to flower.

By the end her eyes are damp, and Maereth is glad to lean her head against the chest of her husband. When the brothers move to claim extra cake she smiles up at Thranduil. "What? No gift from my beloved?"

Thranduil's chest move in faint laughter before he leans down to whisper in her ear, "You shall claim your gift later Meleth, patience."

"Flirt"

"Yours"

Maereth watches with the loving eyes that only a mother can manage as Legolas topples from a table into Arvelass, smearing cake into the dusting of hair on his chin. And who truly can begrudge her the belief that she truly is the most blessed of all Eru's children.

#my fic #thranduil #nanatg

[sotwk]

Spent 30 minutes researching climate patterns in Northern Italy to figure out if it's even reasonable to have it rain so often in Minas Tirith in early May.

Because if I'm gonna lean hard on the Wet Éomer Trope, my brain wants to make it at least semi-logical.

#one of the many reasons im so slow at writing #writer woes #writing #writer stuff #fanfiction #fanfic writing #sotwk fic: taken #eomer #wet eomer trope #lotr #minas tirith #gondor

[sotwk]

I stayed up from 1am to 5am, eking out a romantic scene, inch by inch, on my phone.

In the cold light of the work day, I regret nothing. (Until I start dozing off at noon.)

Because the stuff my brain cooks up in the dead of the night slaps!

#sotwk rambles #writing update #im getting closer to done #buzzing in my own hype and excitement #sotwk fic: taken #writer stuff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing

[sotwk]

WIP Snippet Game: Taken (Eomer x Reader)

I was tagged in a few snippet games last month, but I haven't had anything decent to share until now!

Thank you for the tags, @hobbitwrangler @lathalea @sverdgeir @cuarthol! (and I might have missed someone else, it's been that long, LOL). And a tag for @scyllas-revenge is mandatory at this point.

Snippet from Taken, Part 3

It is only for several weeks, you told yourself, to ease the weight of doubt that sat upon your chest. As you turned to walk back toward the cottage, a fierce wind rose and ripped off the cloak that was loosely draped over your shoulders. With a startled cry you grabbed for it, but not quickly enough to save it from landing in a large puddle. You retrieved the soaked fabric from the mud with a sigh. A fat raindrop landed squarely on the top of your uncovered head, and was immediately followed by another and another. Spontaneous rain had been pouring on and off over Gondor since the King’s coronation, and you heard the locals welcome and praise this tumultuous weather as a blessing, a sign of war’s filth being washed away to cleanse the lands for rebirth.  Shielding your eyes from the sudden deluge, you looked up at the roiling clouds overhead, further entranced by the sight of jagged lightning flashing over the White Mountains.  But when your gaze dropped back down to the horizon, you were alarmed to notice a horsed figure crossing the fields through the storm, approaching fast, in your direction.  It was him. Without proof of his face or voice, or even the support of logic, you just knew. It was him.  The very thought of that froze you, mind and body, in place. Pale and immobile and increasingly drenched, you stood like a deeply rooted tree while the rider drew closer and closer, on a horse powerful enough to sustain its determined gait over the sodden ground and lashing winds. Dumbfounded and dazed, you remained, until at last he came to a stop just several yards away. He dismounted Firefoot, his heavy boots squelching in the muck, and that sound snapped you to your senses.  “My lord,” you rushed forward with the soiled cloak twisted uselessly between your hands. “The stables are around the back. Let me take Firefoot there while you get out of this rain.” “I shall stable him,” Éomer said sternly, but not unkindly, to warn you against arguing. “Go and wait for me inside the house.”

The Tumblr post for Taken (Part 1) is just 3 notes away from 500 notes, which is the highest count by far that any of my fics have!

I am so happy this story has resonated with readers and Éomer lovers, and I am so grateful to everyone who continues to support it even though I'm so very slow with updates.

I keep your kind words in mind as I work hard to finish this "last" chapter. <3 Please wish me energy and inspo. Lots of love to you all!

#sotwk wip #fic wip #sotwk fanfiction #sotwk fic: taken #sotwk update #tag game #wip snippet #wip tag game #eomer #eomer fanfiction #eomer x reader #wet eomer trope

[sotwk]

Italian with a history degree here! Northern to be specific: it used to rain a lot in spring, then climate change happened but during medieval times my region was basically a rainy swamp so it makes sense if you are basing Gondor on northern Italy to make it rainy. (Consider that rice is a major export of my region and it needs a lot of water to be planted)

Also we do love the wet Éomer trope here (the president told me) and we love the idea of wet Éomer in a Italy-based-Gondorian-country.

Hope this helps byeeee

This made me squeal with joy, Anon! Thank you so much for coming forward with this info. I shall take it the final blessing to continue dumping gallons of rain on Éomer in this fic and whatever else I have planned for him in the future. XD

I love Italy so much! It is just one of the two European countries I've travelled to, but it's safe to say if I could live anywhere in Europe, that would be my first choice! And I happily subscribe to Gondor being based on Italy, as Tolkien himself went on record as saying. Two beautiful countries in my head! <3

Also! Thank you for reminding me that rice could also have been grown in Gondor, that's another headcanon that I can make great use of! I'm a Woodland Realm/Mirkwood specialist who is about to launch TWO multi-chapter fics that will mostly be set in Gondor, so I'm a little nervous and insecure about that. It's nice to know there are people willing to help out with some worldbuilding input!

Anyway... full speed ahead for Wet Éomer!!!

#fanfic writing is a team sport #fic collaboration #i have the best anons #anon asks #sotwk answers #sotwk fic: taken #fanfic #fanfic writing #support your writers #eomer #wet eomer trope #gondor #minas tirith #italy

[sotwk]

"Taken" Fanfic Theme Song

Specifically for the love scene in Taken, Part Three

@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras You asked me what song inspo for this fic I was referring to in a post I made a few days ago, and here it is!

There are MANY versions of "As Long As You're Mine" from Wicked, but I recommend looking up YouTube clips of the Broadway performances for the extra romance factor. <3

I did NOT write that love scene in Taken Pt. 3 with this song in mind. The fact that the lyrics ended up fitting so perfectly with the scene and the story, was entirely coincidental, and I was floored when I realized it after browsing my Broadway playlist. Maybe this beautiful song is just rooted in my subconscious!

Every moment as long as you're mine, I'll wake up my body, And make up for lost time, Say there's no future, For us as a pair, And though I may know, I don't care!

Anyway, if anyone is going to reread Part 3, or has yet to read it for that first time, here is some suggested mood music to accompany it (if you like that sort of thing.) :)

Some extra tags: @emmanuellececchi @scyllas-revenge and @minaturefics --because I know you haven't gotten to Part 3 yet and this might add to it!

#sotwk fic: taken #fic soundtrack #eomer #eomer x reader #eomer fanfiction #wicked the musical #as long as you're mine #favorite songs

[sotwk]

so excited for the final chapter of taken - i live for everyone's little blorbos, canon or otherwise. Like yes that's right, assign an entire tragic backstory to that name that's mentioned twice

Cheerleading energy like this is SO appreciated and valuable to me, especially when I'm struggling to CLOSE a stubbornly stalled, looong overdue chapter. Writing fic is very much like childbirth that way (and I know this from experience!)-- the last part is the hardest and most painful and you have to push hardest when you're most tired and spent. Bahahaha. XD Thank you, my sweet friend!

Let's have some more Rohirrim OC (Chris Hemsworth on horseback) just because we deserve a treat. Pretty things on the dash always helps!

#his name is Léodor #that horse is gorgeous too #sotwk answers #i have the best mutuals #sotwk fic: taken #chris hemsworth #sotwk oc #rohirrim #rohan

[sotwk]

I love your TAKEN Story <3

I´m a Fan now :D please write a Sequel <3 <3 <3

My darling new friend,

It is so kind of you to take the time to send me Ask. ❤️ It is so rare these days (at least in my experience), but simple comments like these are such powerful motivation!

The sequel for "Taken" is definitely in the works, although still currently in the plotting stage. Honestly, I had been stuck on choosing which scene to open the all-important Chapter One with. But thanks to your comment, the wheels started turning, and now I know how I'm gonna do it! 😊

So thank you again! I'm so happy you loved the story. I hope you will enjoy the continuation just as much. Have a wonderful week!

(Let's have a little more Eomer just because.)

#sotwk answers #kind asks #reader appreciation #fic comments #sotwk fanfic: taken #eomer #eomer x reader #eomer fanfiction

[sotwk]

SotWK AU Fancast: Théodred of Rohan

Because @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras got me thinking about it and excited over it again, I'm going to drop a fancast reveal for my upcoming Eomer x OC series (spin-off to "Taken").

In the SotWK AU (as the film adaptation plays in my head), Théodred son of Théoden is portrayed by none other than the gorgeous Charlie Hunnam.

Very much looking forward to the opportunity to expand on and give voice to this heroic, intriguing, yet woefully underutilized character! Gonna have to do a lot more research on Rohan and headcanon crafting, though! The labor should be worth it!

Side note/warning: A thousand apologies; this fic will not be a fix-it and he will still keep his canon death. But at least it will shine a light on what an amazing character he was before the tragic loss!

Tagging my friend @laurfilijames for reasons obvious to her. ;)

#sotwk fancast #theodred #rohan #sotwk headcanon #sotwk fanfiction #eomer #eomer x oc #eomer fanfiction #mutuals simp together #sotwk oc #charlie hunnam

[sotwk]

random no pressure ask: share a bit of oc lore you've been working on recently/haven't shared before💛

feel free to pass this ask on to others!

Thank you for the Ask and wonderful opportunity to drop more fic spoilers! <3 And thank you for supporting OCs!

Those who follow me closely enough would already know I am focusing on two multi-chapter stories this year, both of them spin-offs from my Canon x Reader Insert fics:

From "Breathe":

From "Taken":

The two love interests in these fics will actually become good friends in "Change the Stars" (which takes place post-RotK), to go hand-in-hand with the brotherly friendship between Boromir and Éomer that I wish to expand on. Although these two ladies are very different, they also find plenty of commonalities and shared experiences to bond over (not just about their men). Their shared qualities include:

Both are orphans (lost both parents very early).

Both come from controversial backgrounds. (details to follow)

Both are viewed as "unsuitable" for the men they love, due to class division and prejudice.

Both are fiercely loyal to their homelands and their people.

Both stand up for themselves and pursue their chosen paths successfully despite being underestimated and looked down on.

Both are very much in love with their men, but are prepared to sacrifice futures with them to do the right thing.

Now, without further ado, just because I can't sit on this any longer... I would like to introduce the names and faces of these new OCs:

Aerdis, Lady of Gondor

SotWK Fancast: Freida Pinto

"What other explanation could there be for him asking for you ? On the evening of a kingdom-wide celebration, when every fair lady in Gondor was clamoring to gain even just a few moments of his attention? Who were you? Just a produce vendor with your own little stall in the lower markets of the White City." - Excerpt from Breathe  

Signyr, Shield-maiden of Rohan

SotWK Fancast: Katheryn Winnick

"He had forgotten what a vision she made outside of armor, so long had they lived in battle gear. The gown she wore to the coronation ball had distracted him all evening, but it painted her beauty too foreign. The plain clothes of their people suited her best. On her, the wine-red dress underneath her green Rider’s cloak outstripped any fine silk confection. Her hair, usually held back in tight braids or trapped underneath a war helm, flowed in free waves that tumbled to her waist and made his fingers ache with longing." - Excerpt from Taken

Thank you for coming to my sneak peek, and I hope you continue to be patient with me as I work towards getting these fics going! <3 Your encouragement is SO invaluable and helps SO much.

Tagging a few friends who might be interested (if not, please excuse the frivolous tag XD): @scyllas-revenge @ass-deep-in-demons @konartiste @emmanuellececchi @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @hippodameia @heilith @lathalea @unethicallypleistocene @hesperioae @pinkerflamingo78 @hobbitwrangler @hesperioae @alwayssevvy

#sotwk answers #sotwk oc #sotwk fancast #boromir #eomer #boromir x oc #boromir fanfiction #eomer x oc #eomer fanfiction #sotwk fanfiction #sotwk spoiler #sotwk update #sotwk preview #lotr #tolkien #tolkien oc #rohan #gondor #freida pinto #katheryn winnick #anon asks #i have the best anons