#Eomer Simping Disease

[frodothefair]

Frodo and Eomer for the character bingo, please!

Éomer 👑

*Bastard is used affectionately.

Frodo 💍

[celeluwhenfics]

Uh I was looking for something else, but then I found this gif??

The cuteness??!??

We've got:

-Gimli half-naked

-Legolas with a ponytail, a bandana, and some kind of surfer rashguard I guess

-Gandalf smiling

-and ÉOMER LAUGHING?????

Excuse me while I go swoooooooon

[just--a--random--human--being]

He's transmasc and colorblind and hot

Change my mind

[dreambigdreamz]

me : armours are so unattractive éomer : damn it, woman, i'm just trying not to die!

— reference I fell in love with Éomer due to the scene in the books (or rather it was then I realised full-on that this was gonna be a serious thing for me) where he is released from imprisonment and is described as wearing no mail or armour. Imagining this man without his armour just makes it so much endearing to his humility and vulnerability 🫠 go away, Reason, I am in simping mode I do not have to be reasonable.

[kylobith]

Thank you @konartiste for giving me yet another reason to procrastinate

[sotwk]

The conundrum of using gifs and pics of your blorbo character for fic writing inspiration...

...but they keep distracting you and frying your brain cells instead. How am I supposed to get anything done??

This. This is the gif. Please send help.

[frodothefair]

Ok but… Éomer as a father of girls.

He is going to be the most protective, most doting father ever, who will mess up anyone who has even a whiff of dishonorable intentions with The Mûmakil Piercer (tm). Also, he has mad hair braiding skills.

(Not depicted directly in TGH except maybe in an epilogue, but certainly spoken of as a hypothetical.)

[celeluwhenfics]

A little horse scene out of my pHORSEuasion drafts

We have been talking about dressage and Haute École today, and I wanted to show a little scene I have in my drafts. It will appear in a flashback scene in much later chapters of pHORSEuasion, probably much reworked, but as it works well as a standalone vignette, here it is for your early viewing!

The year is 3010, the humans are between 15 and 19, and the horses are between 3 and 8.

The morning was bright and balmy, and Rowena had set out early to exert her young Kellynch before the heat would become unbearable. She led her to a pleasant round of grass in a clearing out of sight from the house, and spoke to her gently, pushing her hips or shoulders with a willow stick, then pulling her, calling her, and in turn rousing and calming her with her voice and precise gestures.

But Wylfric had allowed a rare day of recess to his disciples, and soon Éomer and Gárulf appeared riding abreast on their stallions, passing down the path on their way to the river. Rowena blushed and pretended not having seen them, but Kellynch turned to them, perked up, and refused to pay any more attention to her mistress.

‘Good morning Wena!’ called Éomer.

‘How is Kel doing?’ asked Gárulf.

‘She’s good, thank you. How are your boys?’

‘Wonderful! Don’t you want to join us to the river?’ said Gárulf.

'Oh, wait, let me show you what we've been working on!' cried Éomer.

With a gentle nudge of his heels, he lifted Fýrfot into a bouncy trot. When he reached the bend in the path, he turned him on his hips and started a calm, composed canter. After a few strides, he asked for a lead change, then another, then another. Fýrfot, his ears forwards, neck proud, tail flowing, linked the flying changes with ease and elegance. Éomer grinned as they passed prancing, the peculiarity of the allure teetering between ridicule and magnificence. Rowena gaped and leaned onto her grazing mare's shoulder.

Meanwhile, Gárulf sat back, and with precise aids roused Hasufel into a fairly good piaffe. He held him trotting in place, moving him further and further back onto his hind, until his front legs lifted off the ground and he balanced in a tentative levade.

Rowena, trying to keep herself from turning back to Éomer, echoed some of the encouragements she had heard her father give in lessons.

'Ooooh that's progress, he's so collected now! What a good boy, Hasufel! Can I give him a treat?'

Gárulf flustered and led Hasufel to Rowena as she took a few dice of apple from her reticule. Éomer, who had been going back and forth in passades on the path, pulled closer and started a pirouette. Rowena, aware that he was hoping for her to praise the manoeuvre, but hesitant to let him see her genuine admiration, bashfully smiled down at Hasufel's black muzzle and reached beyond the reins to scratch his neck.

Too busy ignoring Éomer through diligent caresses in Hasufel’s mane, Rowena realized too late how Gárulf was squirming in the saddle with pride and delight. She stepped back in disarray and scrambled to find an excuse to take both young men’s attention off her, and especially to avoid feeding Gárulf’s hopes.

A small bird was singing. Glad for the opening, she whipped her head around to squint at the crown of a tree nearby.

'Shhh! Boys! Quiet!'

Éomer, a little vexed, broke his pirouette.

'What?'

'Shhhh!'

All was silent for a moment.

'Ooooooh, I think… I think…'

She gestured to them to keep still. The bird tweeted again and flew into view, his bright yellow plumage striking against the blue sky. Rowena vibrated with excitement.

'It's a prothonotary warbler!' she hissed.

'A what?' said Éomer as Fýrfot pawed the ground.

'A prothonotary warbler. It's the species. It's rare!'

'Aaah, yes, protronatony warbler.' said Éomer. 'I remember well when I heard that word the first time.'

'Do you?' said Gárulf, impressed. 'When was that?'

'About ten seconds ago.'

The rolling of quick hooves was heard from up on the path, and Rowena's warbler flew. Fýrfot got himself out of the way just in time to avoid being taken down by Windfola flying like an arrow, spurred by Éowyn’s shrill war-cry. Folcred, kicking Adali, yelled and coughed in the cloud of dust raised by Windfola's hooves. He was desperately distanced.

'Éowyn, stop! Slow down!'

'The last one at the ford is a lazy donkey!' cried Éowyn as she fast disappeared beyond the trees down the path.

Éomer rose in his stirrups, hesitant between the thrill of attempting a courbette to eclipse Gárulf’s success, or the fun of at least taking part in the race, if he couldn't beat his sister. At last, he decided that fighting for praise would be fruitless for the time being. With a grunt of spite he turned Fýrfot around and sent him off at a furious gallop. Gárulf also pushed Hasufel on the path and gave him the reins, but he had not made a few strides before he looked back to Rowena and halted.

'Do you need a hand to get on?' he asked, panting, but perhaps not from the short run. His eyes were unmistakably hopeful.

'I can do bareback, but not bridleless! And Kellynch is still much too green for that kind of play.'

'Hm, you're right to be prudent, sorry. Do… do you mind if I walk you home?'

'Oh, Gárulf, you’re too kind, but do join the others. I would rather continue what we were doing, without stallions around.'

'Of course, yes. Well, goodbye then!'

He started again on a canter, as Éowyn's victory cry erupted from far down at the river. Rowena waved her mare back at a trot on the lunge circle. She smiled. Fýrfot's astonishing gaits were still bouncing on her mind.

@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras although you've seen it already, @torchwood-99 @emmanuellececchi @konartiste @dilettantefeminist @the-dolphin-is-dead

[celeluwhenfics]

Random Rohan headcanon: The Creek Game

This horse game was first recorded in the late 29th century of the Third Age near Aldburg, although it has possibly existed in some form for much longer. It has since spread widely across the Mark. By the mid-30th century, it was acknowledged as an unofficial national sport in Rohan, and a great favourite amongst young Rohirrim.

To play the Creek game, you need: -A creek or small river, passable both on foot and by horse, by jumping or fording, or even swimming if the season allows. -Several miles of open plain on either side of the creek -Eighteen "runners", boys and girls of all ages -Six riders, usually the older boys who have started military training, but some strong, tall girls have also been known to excel in this position -Six good horses Note: the game is usually played bareback (without saddles)

The game starts with the runners and the riders on either side of the creek. For example, the runners are on the north side, and the riders on the south side. On the signal, the runners start running north, away from the creek. After giving them a headstart of the duration of the "creek song", the riders go after them. Once a runner is touched, they climb behind the rider, who turns the horse southwards at a gallop, and pass the creek. Once on the south side, he rider decides how far to let their captive runner off, and then moves on the catch another runner. Meanwhile, the previously captured runner makes their way north to pass again onto the other side of the creek. The game ends if the riders manage to get all runners on the south side at once, or when the sun sets. It is the responsibility of the riders that no one, horse or runner, gets severely injured and that all runners are accounted for by the end of the day.

Other rules that are more or less consistentky applied: -Riders can only pick up one runner at a time. -Runners must comply and get on the horse at the best of their ability once touched. No running away, or faking to be unable to get on, to gain time. You're an able-bodied young Rohirrim, you CAN get on a horse at a halt with the help of a strong rider in seconds. Do not pretend otherwise. -When on the horse, a captive runner cannot impede the rider, fall on purpose or try to get down before the rider decides to let them off. Hang on and ride.

Do ankles get turned, horseshoes lost, knees scraped, toes crushed,  manes pulled, clothes torn, tears shed, even bones broken? Yes, sometimes. But could there be a better way to build endurance in horses and young people? To train girls and boys in running on rugged terrain, to build their strenght, orientation, independence, resourcefulness and team work? To get future war horses accustomed to keep a cool head amidst running, pursuits, screaming, rough play and some chaos around them? To impart in young men responsibility and awareness of their comrades over vast areas, in addition to a solid seat without the support of a saddle or stirrups?

Memorable quotes include: 'Have we lost Gárulf and Wylfrun again?! Come on, they could be a little more subtle...' 'Rowena, don't cheat, I touched you already... Hey, COME HERE or I'll pull you up by your braid!' 'Please get off now. I don't care if you drown, I'm not making Arod jump that with both of us on his back.' 'Are you for real? You're running so slow when my brother is around. Be a real Eorling shieldmaiden and put up a fight, or he'll never like you.' 'I know I'm supposed to hang on tight to you, but let's say that you could use a dip in the river when we pass by, so I'll just trust Hasufel to not buck me off until then.' 'Bréda, we're supposed to run NORTH, you know. North is that way.'

...And that time when Théodred had to find, comfort and load on his horse no less than three crying children because Folcred had brought them unreasonably far south of the creek and the sun had long set.

Being an occasion for the girls to admire the riding prowess of young men from up close, and for these dashing riders to enjoy the tight grip of their giggling passenger, the creek game is admittedly the spark that started many an idyll amongst teenage Rohirrim.

It is also an excellent (if somewhat over-elaborated) excuse for an author to include the Only One Horse trope in her upcoming fic.

[frodothefair]

It is weird that this meme exists and that I was not the one who made it.

[frodothefair]

Frodo will always be my absolute fave, but unlike Eomer, he can not wear a man bun.

I absolutely adore man buns.

[sotwk]

Eomer getting wet is 👍👍👍👍 for me! Especially if the rain/whatever is sticking his clothes to his skin, and maybe making his shirt see-through Anthony Bridgerton-style... 😍😍😍😍😍

GURL. YAS.

Oh Slutty White Shiiiiiirt! Paging Slutty White Shirt! You are needed in every Eomer fanfic ever.