#writing — éomer .

[lokiiied]

the drinking game scene in rotk bc legolas is just naturally good at everything and also an elf it takes like twenty beers to get him even slightly buzzed and then he’s like, “i feel something…a slight tingle in my fingers. i think it is effecting me!” and éomer is just like #impressedandturnedon

will never not be funny but also imagine:

after legolas “wins” the game and him and éomer lift gimli and relocate him éomer is just amazed at legolas’ elf alcohol tolerance and says,

“have you never been drunk before?” and legolas smiles and says,

“not from this.” to which éomer responds,

“care to have a few more then?” and legolas realises they haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other so he says sure. and about five beers later (ten for legolas, who now cannot stop chugging them) éomer, now very much buzzed himself, leans in a bit more than intended and asks,

“how are you feeling now?” and legolas smirks at him,

“trying to get me drunk, are we?” which makes éomer shift back a bit, trying to read him, and says sarcastically,

“i would never- [and then without meaning to say the rest out loud finishes his sentence]

-seduce a prince” to which legolas’ eyebrows raise and he presses,

“seduce?” and éomer panicks and tries to go back,

“not what i meant, i uhm, not thinking clearly.” but legolas, deciding to indulge, shifts slightly so their knees touch and leans in a bit.

“i think you’re thinking perfectly well.”

and so basically they kiss (no one cares everyone has like centimetres of personal space in there and are all drunk off their asses anyways) and it’s nice, but legolas realises in that moment a couple things:

1. he is maybe a little more drunk than he thought he was

2. it is making him (more) confident?

3. and slightly horny

4. he’s enjoying the attention and flirtation and éomer is very sweet and pretty…but he can’t help imagining éomer is someone else.

5. not just. anyone else.

“i’m sorry”, he gently places both hands on éomer’s shoulders and says,

“i have something i must do now.” and he leaves éomer confused but also he’s probably drunk enough to think think it was all just a weird dream.

suddenly legolas finds himself shoving through drunks and couples, away from the loud and crowded spaces and through hallways…he’s not sure where exactly he’s going, just that his heart is pounding and his feet will lead him to where he wants to be. who he wishes to see.

aragorn is on the balcony, looking out upon the ruined city. he doesn’t feel like celebrating. there’s still a battle to be fought, and although they won this one, it’s not looking very promising. he hears familiar footsteps approaching. light and quiet, but still, he can always sense when the elf is near him.

legolas slows when he sees him. he had so much courage when he was running through the corridors, but now that he was here…his heart is throbbing in his throat and his usual confidence no longer felt elevated. but he knew aragorn must be able to hear his heavy breath, so he swallowed and made his way to the man’s side.

“shouldn’t you be celebrating?” aragorn asks, without turning his head.

“shouldn’t you be with us?” legolas looks to him. taking in his greasy hair and his stubble and his jawline…

aragorn breaks his gaze from the city below, meeting legolas’ eyes. they looked a little glazed, and he could get lost in them if he allowed himself.

“been drinking with the dwarf?” he asks, corner of his mouth turning up into a small smile.

legolas had felt his buzz starting to fade on his run over - it had only lasted 15 minutes or so, and in another 15 it would probably be completely gone. but standing in front of aragorn now, he felt a sudden wave of lust and indulgence washing over him. maybe it was the alcohol…maybe something else. but he decided he wanted to push his luck.

“actually, he’s been passed out about half an hour or so. i beat him in a drinking game.” aragorn chuckled. (god, legolas wanted to kiss that grimy, scratchy, throat)

“is that so?” he could tell legolas was not entirely sober, and he wasn’t sure what direction this conversation was going to take - but he felt compelled to find out.

“mm. apparently it takes a lot of your kind of ale [legolas wasn’t sure what in middle earth had possessed him to reach out and brush his fingers along the front of aragorn’s robes] to take an effect on me.”

“and yet you seem affected, my friend.” aragorn could knew the small act was mindless…but there was also intention to it. he wished legolas would dare even further. for all that had happened, and was happening - he could use a distraction. but legolas wasn’t just a distraction. he was his weakness. and his strength. and the thought of his touch, his smile, his hooded eyes, his parted lips…it was taking everything in aragorn to keep his composure.

the thought of just telling him about his kiss with éomer, was tempting. but then there was a chance that might confuse aragorn. the kiss was nice, but it hadn’t really meant anything to legolas. maybe it wasn’t worth trying to explain all that now.

“i had a realisation.” he decided on that. it was true. and it was what brought him here, standing in front of aragorn now.

“a realisation?” aragorn could feel the world around them start to fade out. his focus only on the small amount of space between legolas and himself. he now had an idea where this might be going, he wanted to coax him on, but he also couldn’t be sure that his imagination wasn’t taking things out of context.

“yes.” legolas wasn’t sure if it was the fading buzz, or the being so close to aragorn, but it was almost like there was some sort of magic that had created a forcefield around the two of them, blocking out the rest of the world. if he was going to be brave enough kiss him, time was of the essence.

“and what is that?” aragorn wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear to be still with legolas looking at him like that. he wasn’t sure how had ever been able to restrain himself from leaning in to his touches and wrapping his arms around that waist and pulling him in so their hearts touched. how he had resisted tucking that glorious hair behind pointed ears and caressing that perfect jaw-

“i kissed éomer.” well, if he was going to confess his truth, he might as well confess all of it. besides, he wanted aragorn to know that

“it happened in the moment. and it was very nice - but it meant nothing, to me at least. but it did lead me to realise that it wasn’t him i had hoped to be kissing…that i…i was thinking of another.”

aragorn had not expected a confession of this sort, and it did surprise him for a moment, he felt a little sorry for éomer. and a little envious, of not being the first to feel legolas’ lips on his own. but he also knew that, to have legolas’ heart was that of hard earned pining, and of highest fortune. and their every moment together had lead to this one. and if he was being truthful, he could have lived in it forever. but fucks sake was it taking too long. he breathed in through his nose and gently placed one hand above legolas’ waist, slowly, carefully, closing the space between their bodies. the other tucking a strand of hair behind pointed ear.

“and might this ‘other’ have had you running through the halls in your courageous and intoxicated state, to confess this truth?” legolas’ breath hitched, he actually wasn’t sure when he had last taken a full breath- his head was cloudy, and he wasn’t sure if what was happening was real - or perhaps a fantasy that he would soon wake from. he had to be sure.

legolas’ soft, but cold hand found it’s way to cup the side of aragorn’s stubbled cheek. he felt some force of nature pulling them together, it was no use fighting. their lips were centimetres apart…

“he may have.” legolas’ eyes were hooded, and those few words to answer aragorn’s question moments ago (seconds? minutes?) were all he could manage to escape his lips before he found them meeting aragorn’s, finally. he breathed in sharp through his nose and let the air travel between them, before breaking away.

legolas’ hands were on the back of aragorn’s neck, contrasting the heat there. his own hands were now gently clutching the elf’s lower back. he was certain legolas’ smile then was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“i don’t think i have ever seen you smile with such ease” legolas teased, but truthfully it must’ve been the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“i don’t think it’s ever been so easy to smile.” and he meant it.

“what now?”

“what would you have me do with you?” oh. well, there was no one answer to that. and certainly not a very respectful, elvishly, one. he took aragorn’s hand, leading him away from the balcony and towards presumably whatever closest chamber or reasonably private place they could find.

“very unprincely things.”

#okay so like #um #idk whom of my following this is for #probably just me #but uh #here! #have some aralas #something possessed me to write this #it is very amateur be nice #anyways i finished my lotr marathon today #prepare to be sick of me again #aralas #legolas #aragorn #legolas x aragorn #lotr #éomer #aralas hcs

[borom1r]

⚔️ 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ⚔️

Behold, an Ongoing Project! 📯

I've been wanting to compile this for a while, instead of frantically scrambling for references every time I sit down to write — I thought it would be fun to share! I'm mostly tackling this from the perspective of a fanfic author, and also as someone who's very into viking era-through-renaissance men's fashion and armor.

I think it's really fun to look at the decisions that were made strategically (to maintain actor mobility, for example), because they looked cool (Faramir's pointless hinged piece on his helmet), or because they were actually period-accurate (gambesons under chainmail, or worn as armor by themselves!). I'm also taking it as a chance to point out what these garments say about their owners!

I say this in the document itself, but there's no need to credit me if you reference/use the doc for your own writing ^_^ this is some of my favorite stuff to discuss, so just getting to share it is cool enough to me.

I'm purely focusing on human characters to start, because of the more solid real-world parallels, but I'm happy to add on to this if there are other characters you'd like to see!!

(@potatoflower7 + @rivers-for-me, tagging you both bc you interacted w/ the posts I made when I was just starting this!)

#lord of the rings #lotr #boromir #faramir #my writing #éomer éadig #éomer #eomer #théodred #theodred #éowyn #eowyn of rohan #eowyn #(they've been added but not finished— i wanted to talk about hair in rohirric culture) #waugh i havent even started on aragorn and there r 48 pages...... #some day i might turn it into a neocities site but thats just too big a project rn. i need this 2 stay Silly while i work on the text game #(other character tags to be added as their sections are completed) #Éowyn's wedding garb has been touched on briefly alongside Faramir! think I'll cover her coronation gown next just to get it out of the way

[kylobith]

Hesitating to write some Éomer fic, but I have never written LotR stuff. Plus, I want to explore Rohanese, but we know so little, I want to take stuff from Old English and tweak it, but I don't want to sound like a dumbass by doing that

#am I overthinking this? #most likely #that sorta fear keeps me from writing what I want #Eomer #Eomer Eadig #Éomer Éadig

[doorsclosingslowly]

‘Tis a fate that befalls— not every man, because nephews of Kings are few, but it is not unheard of to be wed to the pick of a neighbour power. Éomer will bear it with honour, and never shall the wish pass his lips that his sister instead had fought less against marriage to the White Wizard’s apprentice. At least she’d met Gríma Wormtongue. Met him for months in fact as he stayed at Meduseld to fail countless attempts at wooing her. He was a— the polite term is interesting fellow. Pale as bone and song-spoken though deep in his words lay barbs. Far more adept at politics than Éomer expected of a wizard’s helpmeet. He hailed from northernmost Rohan and travelled far before arriving at Orthanc, he’d said. He bragged of all he’s learned from his wise teacher. Éowyn called him a creep.

This new bride is unknown. Théoden-King had raged at his niece for her stubborn refusal, pressed Éomer into explaining the importance of this alliance to his sister. She was of royal stock: she should have known that not her heart would lead her life but duty. Still, she said no. Gríma returned to the White Wizard. A year later now, this offer. A new bride, a new covenant, and Éomer is not his sister. If Éomer is unhappy, none but himself shall know.

Two days ago, he drank with his Éored for the last time a free man.

Yesterday, he spewed into his chamber pot.

Today he wears his best and makes his way down the stairs of Edoras to the place where his new bride awaits. Had Éomer dreams for the face of his wife— he does not, for reasons all his own— he might have felt the sting of disappointment during his approach, for there is no face to be seen, just white and white and white. Veils, many of them. They’re hiding even her dress. It’s hard to tell there’s a living thing inside.

TBC

#pausing my other silly fics about grima wormtongue to write a silly fic about grima wormtongue #éomer can't tell yet that he's in a horror story #accidentally remixing king lindworm #grima wormtongue #dimtraces makes things

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

@missusnora​ I hope you like this.

Pairing:  Éomer x fem reader.

Themes: Some angst | soft | fluff | smut | Slow burn

Warnings: Explicit content of a sexual nature | minors DNI

Word count: 3137 words 

The toddler giggled on her father’s lap, runny nose and all. You give her a soft wafer and hand over a bottle to her father. “Make sure she takes a small spoonful of this, once in the morning, once just before bed, and she’ll be as right as rain in a couple of days.”

The farmer took the bottle and stored it away carefully in his bag. “I’ll make sure Livitha takes it. Good evening to you, miss.” In one swift move, he lifted his daughter into his arms and walked off.

And you collapsed into a nearby chair as soon as the door closed behind him. The last patient of the day, from Rohan anyway.

Six months. You had been here six months after accidentally walking through a portal in your world, and ending up in this one. A slip-up, the wizard Gandalf had said, after one of his students, a novice Maia, experimented a tad too much with a spell. They had been working around the clock to try and open the portal again, for you to go back home, to your place and time. Alas, it had been unsuccessful so far.

The door opened, and you sighed. “Another patient, captain Gerold?”

“No. Just me.”

"Your grace!" The smile that lit your face came unbidden. “Finally! Someone that does not need poking and prodding!”

Éomer was leaning against the door post, watching you. “Tired, y/n?” 

“Uggghh!” You sink even deeper into your chair and invite him to join you. “If only you knew.”

He grinned and made his way over to a counter, picking up a goblet and a pitcher of water. “If you need a break, you need only ask.”

“Ooooh!” You clapped your hands and sat up immediately. A little holiday was just what you needed. “A vacation? Can I have one?” When he brought over a goblet of cool water for you, you thank him. “The mountains maybe? No! A sunny beach, with lots of drinks that come in fancy glasses with tiny umbrellas in them!” 

Éomer arched an eyebrow. In the beginning, he would have been confused with words such as vacation and umbrella, but after six months of listening to you talk of your world, they made sense to him now. “I doubt very much you will find drinks in fancy glasses with umbrellas,” He held his thumb and index finger as close as possible to each other. “This big. And the nearest beach is almost four weeks by carriage.”

He fought back a chuckle when you choked and coughed out your water. Three to four weeks in a carriage, no matter how comfortable, would be a trial for the will. And your will was in no mood to be cooped up in a carriage, days at a time. “You know what,” You looked around for a cloth to clean up the mess you made, and Éomer was more than happy to toss a handkerchief he had to you. “I changed my mind. No. No beaches for me.” 

“Just so.” Éomer grew pensive and sighed. He had just received a letter from Gandalf. He was sure it was about your journey home, and if he was honest with himself, Éomer didn’t want you to go back. After the initial shock of you literally falling on top of him that day when you walked through that portal, he had grown to enjoy your company. He found excuses to spend time with you, even rearranging his kingly duties to allow it. His sister had noticed and insisted he speak his feelings before you left. Éomer always shied away, fearful of saying the wrong thing and complicating everything. In his own words, fighting and king-ing were easy. Matters of the heart, on the other hand, were not.

His mind went back to the letter. His feelings aside, he didn’t want to keep any news from you. “Here.” He handed over the letter he was holding. “This came for you, from Gandalf. I think they may have found a way to get you home.”

The letter felt unwelcome in your hands. You find yourself not wanting to hear possible good news. Why did your heart fill with dread at the thought of leaving Meduseld and going home? Your fingers trembled as they worked on the seal, on the ribbon holding everything together. Your heart fluttered as you rolled open the parchment and read it.

My lady y/n.

Good news, my lady. 

We’ve done it. We’ve found a way to send you, and only you, safely home. Should you still desire to do so, just send the word, and we will make all the arrangements. 

With much fondness,

G.

Your eyes drift to the postscript. 

p.s. The Valar and I are making sure this spell is never used again, and they have more than willingly given leave for you to stay, should you wish to do so. So think very carefully about what you want to do. Once the portal is closed, it will never be open again. 

You gulped. The wizard had indeed found a way. You could go home. Leave Meduseld for good and go back to your old life. 

Éomer coughed, distracting you. You gulped again. If you accepted Gandalf’s offer, you would not only leave this realm for good, you would have to leave Éomer for good. Over the past six months, the two of you had grown close. Conversation came so easily when you were with him. You looked forward to seeing him, spending time with him. It was a feeling you had, that grew and grew, a feeling you could give no name to. And now, the thought of leaving him fills you with dread. “Gandalf-“ You gave the letter for him to read. “Gandalf has found a way it seems, to send me back. I--”

Éomer read the letter and then read it again, one ear trained to what you were saying, hoping against hope you weren’t going to say what he thought you were going to say. 

Don’t say it. Please don’t say it. 

Éomer knew this day might come, but he hoped he still had time to talk to you, ask you to stay. Now it felt like it was already too late, and he cursed himself for his cowardice. He wondered how much time he had left.

“I think I might take him up on the offer. Go home.” Home. To a quiet apartment, the grind of routine, insane hospital shifts, day in, day out, rinse and repeat. You quickly steal a look. Éomer was reading the letter intently. His hands were all bunched up in fists, his knuckles nearly white from the strain, the letter nearly tearing in his hands. He was angry. 

“Home,” he muttered under his breath. “You want to go home?”

“Yes, I want to go home.” The words felt like ash on your tongue. “I’m not sure I belong here, really, and…”

Fearful of the thought of losing you, of you ending up with someone else, Éomer cut you off with an abrupt, “You are not going.”

It came out like an order, and you stood up with a start. “I am not going? I am not going?” You got in Éomer’s face and pointed a finger at him. “Listen, sir, I know the past six months have been nice and all, but I would like to go home.”

“Home?” Éomer stood up and tossed the letter to a side. The both of you squared up like two fighters going against each other. “To a place with no true friends, where you are worked to the bone, for little appreciation and reward?”

“Yes!” You spat, although his words made you question yourself. Why did you want to go back to such a life? “I want that!” 

I think.

He could have given you every possible luxury and comfort he could muster, a life of peace, and to hear you say that angered him even more. “Oh! You want such a miserable life?” Éomer was up in your face now, and his sister was by the door, debating if she should stay out of this argument. Eowyn used her better judgment and quietly closed the door to give you both some privacy. “My lady?” Captain Gerold, and two of his men, stood behind her, wondering what the hullabaloo was all about. “My brother is trying to convince the lady y/n to stay. In the worst possible way imaginable.” Eowyn murmured as she waved her hands about, to shoo them away. “Let us give them some privacy, and pray the king does not bungle this up in glorious fashion.” 

Meanwhile, you and Éomer were still going at it. “Miserable!” You hissed through your teeth. “You want me to stay and insulting my life from before is how you go about doing it?!?”

“Yes!” Éomer quickly rethought the wisdom of his answer and changed tack. “I mean, no! I did not mean to insult your life! I just do not want you to leave!”

“Why don’t you want me to leave?” 

“Because if you leave, I will not be able to come to your realm!” Éomer shot back. “Not being able to travel to your realm means I lose you!”

Because the portal was going to be a one-time thing. The Valar were making sure of it. That still didn’t answer your questions. “And why don’t you want to lose me?”

“Because!” Éomer snorted, his eyes blazed. “Because! Be--” He gave up and sighed, let go of his anger and stopped fighting. The time had come to bare all, and if he didn’t say it now, he never would. “Because I am in love with you. I--” He inched his way closer, till he was right in front of you. “I do not want you to go because, I am in love with you and I do not want to lose you. I want you to stay here, with me.”

“Wha--” It felt as if the wind was taken right out of your sails. Éomer, King of Rohan, one of the greatest warriors of his age, was in love with you. And wants you to stay with him. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

You were taken aback by his confession, and stuck for words. You did not know what else to say, or do. Éomer, however had the answer. “Say yes. Say yes, that you will stay.”

It was still so much to take in. Your mind was a roil. “But--”

“I can look after you, give you the kind of life you deserve.” Éomer gulped, placed his hands on your shoulders. “You can still worker as a healer, if that is your wish, but you will be happier here, I will make sure of it.”

Here. Meduseld. Rohan. On Middle Earth. Away from the stress and grind of it all, with people that genuinely cared about you and where magic was very real. When large, callused hands drifted over your shoulders to your cheeks, the warmth of them made you forget all your worries. “Stay,” It was a plea, and from a king, no less. “Stay here, with me.”

Time seemed to stand still. Éomer waited, hoping for an answer, and then, when he couldn’t wait anymore, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours.

His kiss was so gentle at first, so tender, as he slowly back you up until you bumped into a table. His hands drifted away from your cheeks, going lower until you felt fingers undoing the clasps and ties of your dress. Feeling more than a little daring, you undid the cords of his doublet, helping him slip it off. When your dress loosened, he stopped, curled a finger under your chin, tilted it up and asked, “Do you want me to?”

You licked your lips, as nerves from before gave way to excitement. “Yes.”

He took his time, hiking up your dress, lifting it over your outstretched arms and tossing it to the floor. Your stays joined it. You felt cold in your shift, but you watched while he undressed himself. Under tunic, boots, breeches, all joined the growing pile on the floor. When the last of his clothes were disposed of you felt your cheeks burn. His body was covered in scars, from battles of old, but that was not all you saw. You quickly lower your gaze, but Éomer tutted and lifted your chin. “Yes?” He asked, his eyes never leaving you.

You were now more certain than ever. “Yes.”

In a move you have to admire, he scooped you up, set you down on the table. “Leg,” He ordered.

You stick out your left leg playfully, giggling when he struggled with the lacings of your shoe. “And here I thought armour was a trial.” Éomer chuckled as he finished up with one shoe and worked on the other. “Women’s fashions are never an easy business,” you teased. “Did your sister never tell you that?”

“More times than I care to recall.” He mumbled and hiked up the skirt of your shift. That too went over your arms and onto the floor. Your eyes dart to the door. “Someone could barge in.”

The door. It was closed, but not locked. Éomer quickly went over and made sure it was locked and bolted before coming back to you. “There,” He crooned and dipped to your neck, drawing out a gasp when his lips glided over your flesh. “No one,” he whispered as his teeth gently nipped. “Is going to disturb us now.”

While one hand hooked around your waist, holding you close, the other hand worked up your body, to your breasts. You felt jolts when he massaged a nipple between his fingers, when his teeth pressed down harder on your skin. You felt yourself grow wet and throb between your thighs. “Éomer,” you breathe, “Don’t stop.”

He loved that, loved hearing his name rolling over your lips. He kissed his way back up to your lips. “Your legs,” He mumbled against between kisses. “Spread them.”

You hesitate for the briefest of moments before resting your legs on your hips. Éomer rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, drawing out another gasp out of you. You bit your lip, to try and contain your moans. Éomer didn’t want that, not one bit. “Let go for me.” He rasped as he slid in his cock, making your walls stretch for him. “I want to hear every sound you make.”

Every time he went a little further, his name rolled over your lips again, and again. It was like a drug to him, hearing his name spill from your lips. When you managed to open your eyes, rich hazel pulled you in. Éomer let go and plunged in completely, making you cry out as he sunk his cock as deep as he possibly could. Your eyes fly wide open. There’s no protection here, something could happen. “Éomer,” you breath when kisses glide over the shell of your ear. “This is r-risky,” he began nibbling on an earlobe, one arm holding it tight, the other playing with your nipple. “I-I c-could get,” your mind had grown foggy, your body overcome with lust. “I c-could get pregn--”

His kisses had stroked their way down to the curve of your neck. “And?” he mumbled against your skin, his breath growing ragged with each passing second. “What if I want you to carry my child?”

The surety and confidence in his words. “B-but the others--”

He bit down on your flesh again, his cock throbbing and pulsing in your cunt. “Fuck the others.” He pulled away again and cupped your cheek. “I am king, anyone who says speaks against my future wife answers to me.” He fingers gripped into your cheek when he kissed you again, this time with his tongue licking past your parted lips, making you tremble with desperate need. Your arms move away the table and circle his shoulders. It felt like your very breath was being pulled out from your lungs and unable to help yourself, you let one of your hands glide down, to his back. That nearly broke Éomer, and he started moving. Slowly again, gently, his arm around your waist tightened like a vice as he pumped you, bringing the both of you closer and closer to the edge. “Say you will stay,” he mumbled.

You whimpered into his shoulder. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

Éomer kissed your neck again, roughly this time, his teeth biting, his tongue running over the bruised skin. When he pushed in deep and you pulled on his hair, he almost sobbed, it felt so good. Still, he wanted to hear more. “Say you will be mine,” he lifted his head, rested his brow against yours. “Say it.”

Something about the way he said it got your pulse racing like made. “Yes. Yes I’ll be yours.”

When he growled and slammed into you, you bury your face into his shoulder, your moans growing louder, filling the room. Someone would hear, but you had gone beyond the point of caring. All that mattered was the man inside you, what he was making you feel. Your hands dig into his skin, you head rolling back when your orgasm neared. “É-omer,” you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Éomer, I-I’m g-going t-to--”

Teeth sank into your skin hard this time, making you cry out again. “Cum for me,” he grunted as he grabbed onto your hips, to go deeper. “Now.”

It grew intense, so intense, your muscles coiled and your cry was drowned when he crushed your lips with his. It felt like a switch had gone off, your body splintered and shattered as he continued to thrust past your pulsing walls. So overwhelming it was, you barely felt a tear streak its way down your cheek, the deep grunt he made when he whimpered your name and filled you with his seed. You could barely feel yourself breathe, you certainly could think. The world seemed to have a ground to a halt, and all that was there was you and the man on top of you.

Éomer held onto you, not wanting to let you go. He wanted to make this moment last, for it was the first time he had lain with you, and he hoped no one came to disturb either of you. His chest heaved, sweat gathered over his skin, over yours. “Y/n,” he murmured against your ear. “My queen.”

When he rested his brow on yours again, you disentangle yours arms, and cupped his cheeks. “My king.”

His kiss was tender now, chaste and sweet. “So, when do we tell the others?”

Your smile was as wide as his.

#Éomer #Éomer smut #Éomer x reader #eomer imagine #lotr x reader #LOTR #reader insert #creative writing #writing #writeblr

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Corn Maze

Ah, this one is just fanservice! He's a favourite amongst my followers!

Characters: Éomer x reader

Words: 256

Warnings: Distress (very light)

“Éomer?” you called, suppressing a nervous giggle as you turned sharply only to face yet another solid wall of corn.

He had promised that it would be great fun to wander through the corn maze—a strange assembly of pathways some brave soul had cleft right into the thriving field—and, naïve as you were, you had believed him.

How you regretted that moment of weakness now that you were hopelessly lost, surrounded on every side by patently deaf ears of corn that were understandably unmoved by your lamentations.

An echoing snigger resounded somewhere ahead, and—shifting from one foot to the other nervously—you could finally make out a gap in the sea of gold and green.

A surge of renewed determination overcame you, and you gritted your teeth, ploughing on bravely.

“Catch me if you can,” Éomer teased from behind yet another impasse.

Even though he had known this little playground since before he had been old enough to sit a horse, and despite the unfair camouflage his radiant hair afforded him, you were sure that—sooner or later—you’d catch up with him.

“You’ll see,” you called, challenge ringing in every syllable of your battle cry. “You’ll rue your words.”

Bursting into laughter, Éomer promised you a thousand kisses and a foot massage if you managed to get to the exit before him.

You closed your eyes and followed the sound of his cheery voice in the same faithful, trusting way as a million times before. He’d see you through, he always did.

@fellowshipofthefics here we go with the next one!

-> Masterlist

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 <3

#og post #FOTFICtember #Fotfics September Event #Corn Maze #Éomer x reader #Éomer #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt

[2x4swrites]

reposting this because I originally linked it in a reblog chain on @borom1r + I’m very happy with it:

a little over 5k words of wedding & sword exchange fluff with Éomer and Faramir, because I love iron-age Norse culture and the parallels that can be drawn between it & Rohan 💚

(link in notes)

#lotr #faramir/éomer #faramir #éomer #fluff #wedding fic #is tumblr still hiding posts w/ links in them from tags? this site is such a nightmare I can never keep up with its bullshit. anyways #Read My Fic Boy. #im still getting scholarly essays emailed to me bc of the academic writing archive I signed up for to research this fic lmao #appreciate the effort!! #pls 👉🏻👈🏻🥲

[corellianhounds]

Drawing Meaningful Parallels Based On Inner Character Traits

Concerning a Lord of the Rings/The Mandalorian Alternate Universe

Word Count: 1,548

—

As much as I would sincerely enjoy cramming Din Djarin into the Aragorn mold and I sincerely think he would excel within Aragorn’s role in the story and we’d see some satisfying and evocative parallels as a result, I am 99% certain he is actually closer to Éomer in personality, attitude, and actions

(This is also with having the Correct™ S1 + selective subsequent material characterization in mind though lol)

MOVING ON!

One of the defining characteristics I think a lot of people INCLUDING THE SHOWRUNNERS WHO CREATED HIM seem to drop or have forgotten from Season 1 is that Din Djarin was a character who was decisive. I’ve criticized a lot of things from Seasons 2 and 3 and TBoBF, but a lot of them come down to having a character with no inward objectives or goals he makes active decisions working towards. There are a lot of outside factors directing him and moving him around without the writing giving him the inward motivations to work with or against the plot in ways that make the most sense based on what we’d seen of his established character. We never get to see what he thinks of anything that’s happening because he’s just sort of going with the flow, rather than being written as an individual with a past and inner characterization that makes him do or not do what he does. Losing that decisiveness takes a lot away from what was a strongly written character.

That being said, let’s take a look at Aragorn and Éomer’s character traits and backgrounds:

Aragorn has valid concerns and reason to want to avoid the calling he has in Lord of the Rings. He knows he is just as susceptible to failing the same way his ancestor did and he’s wary of what could happen if he were to succumb to the same temptation and flaws as Isildur, especially given his newfound proximity to the thrall of the Ring in Fellowship. Aragorn is partially characterized by caution and guilt over knowing he should be the one stepping up to lead his people in the face of overwhelming odds, and up until Fellowship, his avoidance of the call has kept him from helping others on a scale where he could (and should) be doing the most amount of good for the most amount of people

That doesn’t mean he’s NOT a brave, intelligent, caring, and communicative leader who exemplifies all the virtues you want to see in a warrior-king who should be fulfilling that leadership role, it means that his self-doubt has kept him from stepping up sooner, and it’s only after he has been given an objective, support, guidance, hope— and most importantly, a deadline— that he begins to move towards answering that call to leadership. Aragorn has to learn that the courage he has on the smaller scale he’s been operating on is the same courage that he’ll have and be fighting with in the end

(Additionally, their circumstances surrounding the legendary swords of kings (read: title of king) are different: While Aragorn doesn’t want to be king because he doesn’t trust himself not to fall to the same temptation as Isildur, Mando doesn’t want the title because he has no incentive, obligation, or duty to fulfill that role)

Mando is like Aragorn in some of the more surface level aspects; a loner who lives hand to mouth, surviving in the wilderness, capable as both a tracker and fighter, brave and knowledgeable and selfless, a defender of others who is later given the legendary sword and title to defend his people; however, Aragorn chose a meager living later in his adulthood. Not only had he been afforded a home, safety, and education amongst the elves, he had the option of something more grand and privileged than the life of a ranger, the trade-off being the incredibly massive amount of responsibilities and expectations that would come with that leadership position. Kings of this time and setting were expected to be warriors leading the charge. The race of Men was failing and without somebody to lead and unite them, they would be wiped from existence by Sauron’s forces.

Mando is an already established middle-aged character with a comparatively short life expectancy who never had the option of a better life. Din’s life was one of survival and hardship because there were no other choices but to fight for that survival as a member of a persecuted ethnic minority and nomadic refugee of war without a home or land to call his own. Din has been forced to live based on what he can fight, bargain, scrounge, or work for every day of his life since being taken in by the Mandalorians.

And I think it’s that difference in background that sets the two of them apart. If Mando had been afforded Aragorn’s options and privilege, perhaps he would have become a similar kind of person based on the history and circumstances of that origin, but I think that does a disservice to what we actually have of his character when it comes to drawing parallels between the two source materials.

Éomer, despite having a royal background, is living in a decimated land with people on the brink of being wiped out. He’s a trained member and leader of an incredibly skilled warrior group unparalleled in their area of expertise who is at the front lines defending his people every day, protecting those behind him who cannot defend themselves. He is just as much a working class knight as he is a member of the royal family, and he’s sharp-minded and community-oriented with a strong moral compass who acts swiftly and decisively based on what will do the most amount of good for the most amount of people. His uncle the king is being corrupted and influenced by the very evil encroaching on his lands, meaning he’s fighting an uphill battle physically at the frontlines as well as emotionally/socially at home. He’s strong, dependable, loyal, caring, intelligent, and above all, decisive. He has no doubts or hesitation any time he steps up to the plate, and even after he has been technically banished he continues to fight for his people, determined and steadfast and absolutely assured in what he must do. His loyalty to his king, his family, and the people of Rohan is unwavering, and when he leads he does so without question.

On the surface level Éomer and Din share a lot of the same qualities too: seasoned warriors of an elite fighting group, strategic, expert trackers, community and family-oriented, loyal, unwaveringly brave, raised with people who are or become refugees of war, and I think most importantly, are more underdogs than Aragorn is. If Mando didn’t have to constantly travel to find work as the primary provider of the covert at home, Éomer and the Rohirrim are what he could have become if the Mandalorians had been more collected with a permanent place of residence and base of operations when he was growing up. In the first season of The Mandalorian Din is very much operating on his own, but it’s obvious how much he cares for the community he has no choice but to only see part of the time— I could easily see him leading a battalion of seasoned warriors like himself the same way Éomer leads the horsemen of Rohan. One of the best leadership qualities someone can have is the ability to identify and utilize other people’s skillsets in the most effective ways possible to achieve the goal they’re all working toward, and Mando has proven time and time again that he knows how to strategize and coordinate a group of people just as well as he knows how to fight on his own.

I think he and Éomer have similar personalities in their reactions and responses too. If you watch how they interact with others outside of battle and fighting scenarios, Éomer’s anger and despair at injustice is exhibited similarly to the few times we see Mando lose his temper at different obstacles and adversaries, and the rest of the time they’re both generally pretty quiet and observational men who are shown to be tender and caring toward their loved ones. They are both very good judges of character, and though they err on the side of exacting justice rather than mercy, they still think before they act and give people a chance to make the right decision before choosing how they respond.

Mando’s circumstances are different from both Aragorn and Éomer, that’s a given, but his character traits and inner objectives and methods of achieving his goals are closer paralleled to Éomer. Every choice onward from the decision to reclaim the child was to protect and provide for the kid in whatever way he could, a responsibility we never have reason to believe he thinks was the wrong call to make. Din (again mostly in the first season and select moments in all subsequent material) rarely displays hesitance or self-doubt and he acts decisively on every task, and though I have no doubt Aragorn would do the same in his shoes, I think Din’s background as somebody who has had no choice but to be decisive makes him a stronger contender for Éomer in the long run.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #Lord of the rings #Éomer #Aragorn #character analysis #hounds speaks #my writing #star wars au

[brigwife]

Hmmm Éomer speaks very affectionately of Boromir in the books, despite having only met him a few times as he passed through Rohan

I can feel a new ship brewing...

*edit please see my reblog for an expansion on this idea 😭

#Yeah I'm basically just liveblogging lotr whole working rn lmao #Kinda want to write the fanfic now I'm not gonna lie #Boromir #Éomer #Lotr #Éromir?

[colinnoahmayhare]

Snippet not Sunday

I was tagged by @camille-lachenille to share a bit of my most recent writing. And, since I'm trying very hard to finish chapter 51 of my LOTR story, I thought it'd be a nice idea to share some of that.

Chapter 51 will be titled "Horse-master and Horse-Breaker".

Almost right away, Éomer had been determined not to like this man. And it was not only the fact that he was an enemy that fuelled the king’s antipathy towards the wild man, but even more so the personality of the man that he had already had the great displeasure of facing during their first meeting at the capital’s gates. A personality seemingly made up of blatant arrogance and smugness, a man who paraded around with a head held so high that he could not see the stares of hatred and distrust thrown his way. Or at least, that’s how Éomer chose to see him – because, as of yet, the wild fucker had apparently not deemed it necessary to pick up on the fact that he was very much leaving a king waiting here and that said king was very much looking daggers at him from his chair next to the fireplace. Instead, the Horse-Breaker had taken to studying the various different tapestries and banners that were hung on every wall all around them – and one in particular seemed to have caught the wild man’s attention.

Alright, I'll tag @demonscantgothere

#my fic #Éomer x Lothíriel #my writing #fic game

[themoonlily]

BRIGHT HORSES

In bright summer, friends meet in green Ithilien and new bonds are forged. Neither the King of Rohan or the Lady of Dol Amroth were looking for one another. But fate won’t be denied when kindred souls come together.

ff.net / ao3 

#Éomer #Eomer #Lothíriel #Lothiriel #Éothiriel #Eothiriel #eomer x lothiriel #my writing

[astraeal]

altars 🍂🎃

ship: éomer/faramir rating: gen, but kind of horny at the end prompt: from this list

Bring the outside in.

Autumn is a time of replenishment and a shift to the internal, the indoor, the quiet in between. Trees let their bounties fall to the earth, to nourish another season’s worth of animals. All living creatures prepare for the final harvest, for the tipping point in the scales, when darkness outweighs the light. Thicker coats, on both men and beast, populate the streets below.

Éomer hums to himself, an old song he remembers from his lullabies, as he coaxes the flame forth from the lighter, touching it to the wick of the well-burned candles. Black and white, to represent the yes-and of this season; the old and the new, the dark and the light, the feminine and the masculine. Nestled amongst gold coins and necklaces sit small pumpkins and squash, rain soaked pine cones left out to dry, hardened cranberries and dewy soft freshly picked blackberries, his hands still stained with blood and juice, a goblet of homemade apple cider, and oven roasted cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds.

It is an altar to the season, in general – an altar to autumn and all that it brings.

A hand slides along his shoulder blades, and he looks up from where he’s kneeling before the wax covered trunk, hands stilling as he prepares to drizzle cinnamon for luck over the offered apple cider.

He’s greeted with a soft smile, and oh how he longs to kiss that mouth. Slowly he stands, allowing the hand to glide down his spine, until it settles along his lower back. Darkened eyes look upon a familiar face, and he leans down, resting their foreheads against each other.

Éomer is always a bit emotional this time of year, having felt his mother’s passing at the tender age of eleven in autumn. As time progressed, he began to appreciate more what the season had to teach him about the process of letting go. That all things will come along again, in this life or the next.

“Am I interrupting?” comes a low voice, lips just barely brushing his own.

He smiles. “Hardly an interruption when it’s you.”

“Oh, well…in that case, may I persuade you to join me for dinner?”

The horse-lord hums, cupping Faramir’s face and kissing him tenderly. When he pulls back, he offers, “Perhaps, if you allow me a moment to finish seasoning my cider.”

“You’re not going to drink it though, right? It’s for the spirits?” Faramir mumbles, brows furrowed.

Éomer had hesitated to share this with Faramir; had thought that it was something of a rural country tradition that he had carried with him into the city, had thought Faramir with his gleaming high tower experience would have laughed upon his pagan ways. But Faramir had taken it in stride, and asked curious yet respectful questions, and more than once in his springtime offerings Éomer had taken advantage of their relationship, youth’s fertility still clinging to him in his 26 years of age.  

“That’s right, it’s not for me, but I like cinnamon in my apple cider, so why shouldn’t they?”

“Not everyone likes things the way you do, Éomer,” Faramir murmurs, amused.

“But they should, my way’s the best,” Éomer replies with a smirk, tugging Faramir close against him by the waist.

Faramir gasps, and so Éomer tightens his grip, cradling the artist in his grasp. He brings a hand up to cup Faramir’s cheek, thumb lightly pressing at the corner of his mouth. He watches as Faramir’s pupils dilate, lips obediently parting. He allows his thumb – still dusted with cinnamon sugar from the pumpkin seeds – to slip into his mouth, all the while smirking down at his lover.

“If you want, we can do things my way tonight,” he murmurs, watching Faramir lick the cinnamon sugar free from his thumb. “Starting right now.” His other hand reaches down to palm Faramir’s ass, getting another sweet gasp.

The afternoon sunlight paints the living room gold, illuminating the flecks of silver in Faramir’s grey eyes. They stand in that slice of autumn, the altar to the west, as they too fall into each other like leaves from a tree, all hungry mouths and needy hands.

Dinner and cinnamon lay forgotten.

#eomer x faramir #éomer x faramir #faramir fic #éomer fic #an autumn themed writing sprint that i kind of liked #we'll see if i put it up on ao3 but uh #here you go! #writing #lotr fic #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings #it's set in some modern au somewhere where faramir's an artist and éomer plays hockey #i have another short little something in this verse posted somewhere on this blog

[borom1r]

HMMMM I need to write another Boromir/Théodred fic. I have Things I want to Explore

#that Aragorn/Boromir is sitting in my drafts unfinished. Sighing. motivation is elsewhere tho #I might start a Boromir/Théo fic rn since I’ve made good headway on Faramir’s 3rd date in the text game #I’ve been writing so much Faramir/Éomer and I love writing Faramir but I need to show my GUY my fucking GUY!!!! (Boromir) some love

[camille-lachenille]

Day 28 of All of Arda is Autistic:

Prompt: Innocence/Mischief

Rating: Gen

A terrified shriek broke the usual sounds in the stables, soon followed by high-pitched giggles. “Éowyn, put that… that thing away! Kill it!” a Éomer begged.

His sister gave him a grin with a gap where two teeth were missing in the front and she opened her hands once more, careful nog to let her catch flee. “It’s a grasshopper, Éomer, not an Orc!” she snickered. “It won’t kill you.”

Éomer backed until he was pressed flush against the wall of his pony’s box, as far as possible from the grasshopper. “I don’t care, just throw it away!” Éowyn stuck her tongue at him but reached on her tip-toes to throw the grasshopper over the door of the box. But she stopped at the last moment and turned to face Éomer once more. He instinctively pressed himself a bit more against the wall.

“I have a better idea. What if we give it to the old fusspot?” Éowyn asked, her grin far too wide for anyone’s good. And she also looked far too proud to know the word ‘fusspot’ at her age.

Éomer frowned before understanding what his little sister was proposing. “Old Elfleda!” he exclaimed, now grinning too. Their old nurse was not unkind but she definitely needed to smile a bit more. “I distract her, you put the monster in her bed!” he ordered, already making to walk out of the box before remembering what exactly Éowyn was holding and shooing her away first.

Giggling, the children darted out of the stables to enact their plan. And when, that evening, old Elfleda made a cry loud enough to rival Uncle Théoden’s war horn, Éomer and Éowyn were the perfect image of innocence. They still were punished for a whole week.

No direct link with autism but I really struggled to come up with something for this prompt and I just let Éowyn lead the story.

#all of arda is autistic 2023 #tolkien #the lord of the rings #éowyn #éomer #éomer and éowyn #autistic character #siblings #sibling relationship #ficlet #writing prompt

[doorsclosingslowly]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gríma lived.

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

[edges-of-night]

Imagine where your first kiss with LotR characters would be ♡

Thank you for all your positive responses to my first post! I hope you’ll enjoy this one as well, it was a lot of fun to write!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn would make your first kiss absolutely romantic. He would take you to a moonlit spot he found in the forest, where you’d listen to a brook and the night birds as he holds your hand. Aragorn kisses you without expecting or demanding anything in return. He is content as long as he can be with you!

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would playfully guide you to her favourite tower in Rivendell by your hand. She’d smile brightly over her shoulder as you ascend the artful staircase to be closer to the night sky. She’d stargaze with you there, maybe show you a book or two about the Elvish constellations that she keeps up there. You would kiss over such a book, or maybe against the white balustrade.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is well aware of his charms. When it comes to your first kiss, he teases and plays with you. However, once you share a quiet moment in the ruins of Osgiliath, he gives in to your advances. Leaning against a stone column, the usually shameless man grows silent against the comforting touch you provide.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond keeps his house very orderly. He takes it upon himself to sort the library, for example. Since you offered to help him, you have been working all afternoon. “This is the rest,” you’d say with a tired smile and a sigh as you set back the last books. Charmed by your blush of exhaustion in the golden sunlight, Elrond would smooth your hair back and lean in for a thank you kiss.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer would kiss you in the wide grasslands of the Riddermark. Your horseback ride has been interrupted by a sudden storm – the weather here is erratic – forcing you to find shelter in a rock formation. There, Éomer would make sure that you’re alright and dry, and as you’d touch, his heart would skip a beat at your damp hair and puffed lips. Being the man that he is, he’d kiss you passionately then, however offering you to “keep this between us and the rain” should you desire so.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn loves the hills and cliffs of Edoras. There, she has a secret hiding spot where she used to play as a kid. Now, she uses it for romantic rendezvous’, as she tells you with a smirk. You joke around a bit: “So, I’m your romantic tryst?” – “Perhaps you are!” – before you both lean in for a playful kiss that soon turns into something more romantic, truly.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

If it was up to Faramir, he’d kiss you anywhere – on the market in Minas Tirith, in the forests of Ithilien, or his castle after the Ring War. However, he couldn’t have chosen a better place than you: a flowery meadow where you sat down with drinks and books to tell each other fantastical stories about magic and dragons. While you lie in his arms, all you need to do is look up to find that Faramir wasn’t even reading the book you held up and instead just admired you. And then, cupping his cheek and gently guiding him toward you is just too tempting!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would kiss you in front of your house in Hobbiton, having accompanied you home after a party at the Green Dragon. He’s a gentleman, so he’d always offer to walk home together. Maybe you’re both a bit tipsy, but either way, you end up leaning against a quiet corner of your house, hidden away in the night shadows, where you share a kiss that Frodo blissfully smiles into.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel would know you’d want to kiss her even before you yourself were really aware of it. One day, while sitting by a brook near her abode in Lothlórien, she’d grin at you because she knows very well the reason for your blush. She’d offer you to sit by her side, or maybe even on her lap, and converse with you before brushing your hair out of your face to finally give you that kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf would finally kiss you after a long day of studying. You’ve been sitting in Minas Tirith’s library for hours, pondering ancient magic and recent developments. Once you call it a day, he’d look up and smile at you, like he just remembered something. Then he’d wish you goodnight. “But first…” You’d be lying if you said you haven’t seen it coming from a mile away, but of course you let him have his joy anyway!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

While usually brash and charming, Gimli is all quiet when it comes to asking you for a kiss while staying in your home. If he was wearing his helmet, he’d take it off, needless to say! You know he meant it to be a chaste forehead kiss, but you like to give your Dwarf a kiss worthy of a song – one that renders him speechless for at least a day. He’d definitely stumble over the doorstep on his way out!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

It is needless to say that Haldir would deny any desire to share a kiss with you until the very last second. After protecting the borders of Lothlórien from orcs, he is badly wounded and in dire need of your healing skills. Though he is ashamed of the vulnerability, he cannot help but marvel at your beauty and compassion while you’re immersed in your task. He’d guise the kiss he gives you in the moonlight as a shameful repayment, but by now you can read his marble face so well that you know better!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would kiss you swiftly and lightly, like sunshine does when you step outside on a summer morning. Out in Mirkwood, he’d swirl around you like a butterfly to keep your fears away. You’d heard stories about the dark forest, but he knows just how to keep your mind off of it. “There,” he’d smile after your kiss, just shakily enough for you to realise he means this seriously after all, “the fear is gone.”

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry would make a pompous scene out of kissing you. He’d announce it loudly, standing on a table in the Green Dragon. He’d get a blast out of your reaction, whether you’re blushing in embarrassment or laughing brightly at his joy. When he does join you by your chair and pecks your flushing face, the crowd cheers you on!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would kiss you on a festive night. You’d run through the strawberry fields all night, always hunting the colourful fireworks sent by Gandalf from the hills above. After you break down beneath a tree, laughing and exhausted, Pippin would exclaim something like, “I could kiss you right now!” and quickly lean in.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam keeps a mental list of things he’d like to say to you someday. However, he’s so insecure he doesn’t even dream he’d ever get the chance. But when you’re sitting in the shadows of the sunflower field on a bright summer day, he’d want to seize that opportunity and babble in his adorably timid but sincere manner. But, being embarrassed by his own fumbling, he’d eventually go, “Maybe I oughtta kiss you instead, y’know?” Far be it from you to object!

#lotr imagine #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #aragorn x reader #arwen x reader #boromir x reader #elrond x reader #eomer x reader #eowyn x reader #faramir x reader #frodo x reader #galadriel x reader #gandalf x reader #gimli x reader #haldir x reader #legolas x reader #merry x reader #pippin x reader #samwise x reader #* fluffy