#eomer imagine

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

LOTR and Hobbit NSFW headcanons

(I’m in my lotr horny era and this list could probably be added to 😂)

Boromir:

- His favourite position is missionary with your ankles on his shoulders so he can see your body, especially your tits

- Sex during sparring sessions

- Isn’t very rough in the bedroom but when you fuck during sparring he loves to grab you, force your head down and grab your hips hard

- Can be a little subby

- Loves to be put in his place

- Doesn’t like being or giving spanking but isn’t opposed to getting a couple face slaps

- Likes being bossed around but not degraded

- Wants you to call him ‘captain’ in the bedroom

- “Who own your cock, captain? Who fucks you this good?”

- Is a big ol tiddy boy

- Hand over the shoulder and lightly touching your boob

- “Boromir not in public”

- Not super sexual but after a long day he falls to his knees in front of you for you to hold him

- Will say “oh fuck” as he slides into you

Eomer:

- Very typical but loves when you ride him, loves being able to see and grab all of you

- Lots of riding dirty talk

- “Ride my cock hard, darling. Come on and fuck me hard. Use those gorgeous fucking hips of yours”

- Will guide your hips as you ride him

- Seeing you ride an actual horse turns him on too

- Loooovveesss having his hair pulled

- Especially when hes between your legs or against a wall

- Bending you over his desk and taking you by flipping your dress up and fucking you hard

- When you get a bit drunk you grab his ass and biceps and he loves it

- Loves when you tell him how strong he is, like almost over the top flirting gets him for some reason

- “Oh Eomer, you have such big arms” you tell him all breathy and grabby

- Is so sweet and gentle with you

- But

- When he returns from a battle he will fuck you hard and make you scream

- Very possessive

- “Scream my name, baby, let everyone know who fucks you this good”

- Constantly grabbing you to sit on his lap, especially at parties

Legolas:

- Sensitive ear kiinnnkkk!

- He definitely whimpers during sex

- No matter who’s on top or if he’s being submissive or dominant he always says ‘thank you’ when his cock slides inside you

- Loves to run his fingertips over you so gently and sweet

- Could gently play with your pussy for hours

- Straddling him while he’s on his knees is easily one of his favourite positions

- Being able to hold you so close to him

- Loves listening to your heart beat after sex

- Holding you and pressing his head to your chest

- Loves after sex head scratches too

- When he is a sub he loves edging

- Begging little baby

- “Please, ma’am, please let me cum. Please I’ve been such a good boy”

- Is a good boy

- When he’s dominant he’s very gentle

- Doesn’t really fuck you fast but more hard and bruising thrusts

- Mutters things in Sindarin when he’s lost in pleasure

- Whispering dirty talk in Sindarin in your ear, whether you understand it or not

Aragorn:

- Isnt opposed to tying you up but prefers to bond you by manhandling you

- Says such sweet things to you while fucking you hard

- “Oh princess, you take my cock so good”

- Having to put his hand over your mouth while he finger fucks you

- Forced quiet sex

- “Be nice and quiet for me, sweetheart. Don’t want these people to hear you do you?”

- For some reason it turns him on when you smoke his pipe

- Doesn’t like to fuck when he’s been drinking but loves to watch how you dance when you’ve been drinking

- It usually ends with heavy makeout session and touching each other but he doesn’t like full on sex when one of you is drunk

- He loves to watch it from afar too, sit in the corner and watch how your body moves

- Even when you dance with Merry and Pippin on top of tables he thinks it’s so hot

- Will just start saying full sentences and dirty talk in Sindarin while he takes you from behind

- He gets so lost that he can’t help himself

Haldir:

- Outdoor sex

- Pulling your hair while he takes you from behind up against a tree

- The good old sensual archery lessons while he whispers in your ear

- Loves teasing you, especially by standing behind you and whispering in your ear

- “Yes marchwarden!” “Thank you, sir!”

- Slight degradation kink but nothing that actually hurts you

- “Oh look at how you blush just from my words, darling”

- Height kink

- Corners you and standing close and above you just to look you down and make you blush

- Fucks you stupid

- Like your head lulls and your eyes go all misty

- Chasing you down in the forest and fucking you when he catches you

- One of the few lotr fellas I can see being into violent fucking

- He’s rough with how he fucks but he’s just as if not more gentle and caring with aftercare

- Degradation to raise real quick

- “Take my cock just like the whore you are” “Oh my darling, you did such a good job, Meleth. Such a good girl for me”

Thorin:

- This man has the biggest breeding kink

- “Give me an heir, my queen. Let me fill your womb”

- Staring you right in the eyes while he finger fuck you

- Obviously throne sex

- Almost cums in his pants when he sees you in your crown for the first time

- Isn’t usually submissive but you can make him do anything when you wear that crown

- Holds you down by your hips while I fucks you from behind

- Will whisper Khuzdul into your ear while he fucks you

- Fucks you rough but doesn’t want to actually ever hurt or scare you

- The second you’re uncomfortable he will stop and hold you, he’ll even sing to you

- Loves to know he can take care of you

- Such sweet dirty talk

- You’re either his queen or his good girl, no in between

Thranduil:

- Is dominant 99% of the time

- Doesn’t always like when you’re on top but when you are he likes to force your hips to move while he fucks into you

- Wants you to say ‘thank you’ when you cum

- Does want to fuck you hard and rough but will wait and double, triple check before even trying

- Face fucking you stupid

- Is so gentle and soothing with aftercare

- Treats you like a sweet princess during aftercare

- Cockwarming while he does work

- Size kink, loves how much taller he is and how his cock barely fits in you

- “Look how your tiny pussy takes my big cock” “oh, darling, I don’t think it will fit”

- If you’re a human he also has a massive age kink

- “You’re such a sweet little girl for me”

- Staring down at you with your face covered in cum

- Not opposed to some good old pet play

- Is both cruel and loving

- Degrades his dirty little slut pet while he uses them just for his pleasure

- Loves having you sit in his lap and have you curl up to him and hold his sweet little darling

- Holds you and kisses you while you ride his thigh

- Strokes your hair while you hump his boot and look up to him with big desperate eyes

Kili:

- Biggest turn on for him is seeing you dance and jump around

- The way your face flushes and your tits bounce makes him crazy

- Loves being both babied and degraded

- If he could live between your tits he would

- Sitting in your lap, panting and whimpering as he thrusts his hips into your hand

- Mutual masturbation

- Doesn’t like to be hurt too badly but does love spanking and overstimulation

- Shows off whenever you watch him train

- Even if he’s shorter than you he still loves showing his strength by carrying you

- Carry’s you to the bath after sex and takes his time washing your body and your hair

- Just wants to be your good boy

- No thoughts, just be good boy and love boobs

- Does not have mommy issues but does have mommy style kinks

- Loves sucking on your nipples

- (honestly that gif does things to me 🥵🥵)

Fili:

- Knife kink!

- He’d never use his knife on you in a dangerous way but does love to cut your clothes off you

- His beard braids feel amazing and ticklish between your legs

- Hand on your thigh always, during sexual times or not

- Polar opposite things will turn him on

- While you’re fighting he gets hard and wants you to grab his hair and use his cock

- When he sees you taking care of babies his breeding kink comes out hard

- “I’m going to fuck a baby into your womb. We’re not leaving until you’re full of my cum”

- Loves to fuck you in the woods especially when it’s risky

- While on the journey to reclaim his home he liked to take you into the woods and fuck you

- He loved that you had to be so quiet but still he could hear your little whimpers

- He is a prince and next in line to the throne so he has to keep PDA to a minimum

- That doesn’t stop him from grabbing at your thigh under the table and whispering dirty things in your ear in the middle of a party

- Playfully slaps your ass while you’re changing

- Skinny dipping 👌🏻👌🏻

- He has no problem keeping you warm 😏😏

Bard:

- Loves to cum all over your face

- Lots of pet names during

- “Oh darling you feel amazing” “cum for me sweetheart”

- Forced quiet sex

- Packing your wet underwear in his bag while he’s away, he does smell it while he touches himself

- Such a dirty man but great at hiding it

- Loves the noises you make when his beard scratches your neck

- Bit of a caretaking kink

- Gets really horny when you massage him, cook for him, bandage him up, wash him in the bath

- Takes you fishing so he can finger you on his boat

[wordbunch]

how they care for you when you’re sick/injured but refuse to rest

a/n: requested by @tolkien-fantasy!! 💕 since i already did sth quite similar with Frodo/Sam/Merry/Pippin, this time I decided to include only the “big guys”, aka Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, Éomer and Legolas. Also Fíli doesn't go here but I decided he will be here.☺️ I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts and opinions, and reblogs are always super appreciated!!!🥰🥰🥰

Aragorn: He is literally just like that, even if he’s unwell he will keep pushing, and that is exactly why he immediately notices you do it too, and decides to put a stop to it. As much as he is loving and supportive and always respects your opinions and wishes, he is not taking ‘no’ for an answer when he deems that you really need to rest and recover. Luckily for you, he’s a legendary healer, so you will probably get better relatively soon. If he’s able to give you 100% of his attention and time during your recovery, he will literally feed you if he needs to, just so that you don’t exhaust yourself even more. Also he will quickly hush you if you begin to protest and insist that you’re fine and really have things to do! Sorry, king’s orders! Not just that, he will most definitely have your favorite food made for you, so that you don’t have to lift a finger (even though you want to). 

Boromir: You were both extremely busy on the day when Gondor was preparing for some big festival, and amid your errands you sprained your ankle, but you brushed it off because you wanted to personally oversee the flower arrangements. For the first and only time you were thankful not to see Boromir half the day because you knew he would make a small fuss about it immediately, so you limped on until you accidentally ended up tripping and stumbling backwards into a familiar strong chest. He looked at you suspiciously while you attempted to just brush it off as being clumsy, but he thought you looked a little bit pale and was not convinced. Before you could keep convincing him, he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bed, having seen right through your act. Sadly he couldn’t have stayed with you the whole time as there were still some things to prepare, but he ran to you as often as he could to check if you were still resting, and to attack you with a flurry of reassuring kisses. Later in the evening he will 100% cuddle you until you both fall asleep wrapped up in each other, and he has no trouble carrying you around for days so that you don’t have to put weight on your injured leg - he enjoys doing it!

Legolas: Injuries and illnesses are not exactly something he is very familiar with, but he knows enough to be aware that they require rest and recuperation! His senses are sharp and he notices if you wince one time, and he is there in an instant. He will ask you what is wrong, what you need, etc. As much as Legolas he understands your restlessness and the constant need to be up and about, he needs you to understand that he’s worried and doesn’t want your condition to get worse. If it’s something very serious, he will immediately call Aragorn for help, but if it’s something minor, he thinks he should be able to handle it and support you through it. Before you know it, you’re not allowed to do anything under his watchful gaze but you’re bored!! No problem, though, he is more than ready to entertain you in any way he can, even if it means he has to sing you all the elvish songs since the beginning of time (and you will make good use of his promise to do that!). 

Éomer: Oh that is literally his BRAND because he’s out there being unstoppable even when something is wrong - and he is not letting his beloved be like that, not on his watch! He is also the type to carry you to bed despite your protests and you being like “I’m fine!” And he is like, alright then, but even if you’re fine, that doesn’t mean you can’t get some rest! No amount of your pouting is going to make him let up. Eventually when you finally admit you’re in pain, he will fuss over you a bit and he will literally try to cook something (he feels better when he can take action) and before you know it he’s making 4 different kinds of tea at the same time and things seem a bit chaotic… When you ask whether he’s sure he doesn’t need any help, he will insist that you just go and rest and that he has everything under control. Needless to say, you didn’t get to eat/drink everything that he started making cause he failed at many things, but you appreciate the love that went into it regardless!

Faramir: He can notice that something is off within like 0.3 seconds and multiple times throughout the day he will ask how you’re feeling and if something is wrong because he can sense that something is off, but he knows you well enough to know that you’d prefer to keep going on about your day, even when in pain. And then when you almost pass out you finally admit that you’re not feeling well, and you know he will immediately drop whatever else he is doing and just focus on you as much as he can until you’re perfectly recovered. More likely than not he is immediately looking for Aragorn because he is NOT taking any risks; although you try to reassure him that it might not be necessary. He knows how to be persistent and when he gives you puppy eyes with those gorgeous teal blue eyes… you have no choice but to let him do his thing.

Fíli: When it comes to you he is a very worried person and he likes to keep an eye on you as much as he can, so it doesn't take him long to become aware that you're acting...different. He is especially fussy if you get injured, and he will push everything and everyone else aside to nurse you back to health, and it literally becomes his number one priority. Fíli won''t hesitate to be even a little bit harsh if anyone comes to bother you or ask something of you before you're 100% recovered, so sometimes you gently reprimand him for it - you feel well enough to go and keep doing things! But good luck trying to convince him!

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense​​​​​​ @starlady66​​​​​​ @queenmeriadoc​​ @entishramblings​​​​​​ @thesolarangel​​​​​​ @silversword7000 ​​​​​​ @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate ​​​​​​ @emmaarenstarr @noldorinpainter ​​​​​​ @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver ​​​​​​ @fenharel-enaste ​​​​​​ @ironmandeficiency ​​​​​​      @starryeyedrogue ​​ @dinofromspac3  @wisheduponastar ​ @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @sillyvampireboi

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Blue Moon

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (movies) Ship/Pairing: Eomer x Reader (one mention of reader wearing a dress) Trope: Noble x Humble worker Note: IT’S SOTWK’s FAULT. We talked about Eomer’s hands and here we are. The title « Blue Moon » is a reference to the song « Blue Moon », my favourite rendition being sung by Ella Fitzgerald. Warnings: Horses? Word count: 1 595 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

There was something hypnotising about his hands.

The way his palm moved along the planes of the horse’s back. They were delicate. Deliberate in their care for the animal. Several times today, you had caught your gaze lingering a little too long on his slender fingers and their dexterity. Several times you had wondered what they’d feel like against your skin, in your hair weaving braids during a quiet evening. Those were fairy tales. You did not dwell on them, even when it kept you up at night; heat clinging to your skin, the chilly wind doing nothing to help your wandering mind.

It seemed to appease his uneasy nature to come here. He would go in the early hours of the day, only to come back in the middle of the morning. To the outside world, he was a leader. Someone they could trust and follow into depths unknown. Here, he was only Eomer. You considered yourself lucky to have witnessed both.

Others were concerned by his willingness to spend so much more time with you instead of them. You had dismissed them easily enough, but the thought had lingered. Why was he only asking you to help him? A bucket, water, hay, a brush for the horse’s mane. You were not willing to fathom an answer, especially if it was the wrong one. Seeing him like this it made you happy enough. You were content with this, whatever this was.

From time to time, he would ask about your day and you would always answer the same things. Fine and good. Excellent, perfect or grand. Never would you have said what you wanted to say. That it was him who made those days fine, and good and excellent and perfect and grand. Until meeting him, working with horses had been your life’s dream, and you were fulfilled by it. When he was there, you weren’t so sure anymore. It felt as if all of him was completing what you had and did not know you were missing.

“What are you thinking about?”

Barely above a whisper, his question lingered in the air between the two of you, almost as if he had not meant to ask it aloud. He was still working his fingers through the hair, looking beyond the horse’s back, away from you. If he had looked at you, you could have traced a lingering hint of a pinkish hue on his cheeks.

A chilly breeze rose, and you had to tighten the cloth around your shoulder, crossing your arms close to your chest.

“Nothing important, Sire.”

A laugh echoed through the wooden box around you.

“Then why are you boring a hole in my skull with your staring?”

Your cheek felt warmer than they had been moments ago.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, sire. If you need me to go, I… — No. Stay.”

Eomer had not meant for his voice to grow this loud. Nor to turn around so abruptly. The nerves in him, electrified by your eyes, led him to act so.

It had grown almost suddenly, this affection he had for you. First, you were something to behold. Once he discovered your face, your features, the way you moved and talked, he only ever wanted you to be near him when the mask fell off. When he could be himself and not who he was supposed to be. Second, you never pressured him into talking, going silent for hours on end, just being there with him and Lia. She was not his usual horse. He preferred not to overexert Firefoot, especially after the events he had seen on the battlefields. You were the one to care for her when he could not, even before he started mounting her. The mare had a gentler temper, dark robe and larger body. She adored you and if instincts served him right, animals were always the true tellers of someone’s nature. Thirdly, and lastly, your presence calmed him like no one else could. Except when you were threatening to leave. Or when you were looking at him, behind his back. He never wanted you to stop looking at him like that. When your eyes were observing and kind on him, his weary body and his weary mind, he felt that he could take on another thousand wars just to find you here again, safe and sound, watching him. He only hoped you could say the same about him.

“As you wish, Sire.”

The goosebumps on your arms and the way you protected yourself from the cold struck him then. With the winds of winter approaching, the weather had gone incredibly cold, and you were only wearing a thin linen above your usual dress and robes. He stepped out of the box, coming closer to you as he’d ever been. He grabbed for a cover lying around. Those were used for the horses but they’d have to do. He wrapped it around you, as tight as he could. It smelled of the stables and hay. A hint of pink shattered across his cheekbones in the morning lights. Your breaths were leaving your lips in hot clouds between you. The way he settled his palms on your shoulders, securing the cloth around you, drove a whole different kind of shiver down your spine. You could feel his fingers over the fabric, his overexerted hands catching some threads, before he took them off you, gently. You could not help the sharp inhale you took when he did.

“Would not want you freezing to death on my account.”

His smile did not reach his eyes, but you felt the warmth it procured you down to your toes. At a loss for words, you smiled in return, trying to hide your face. Your arms were still secured against your chest but your heart was not as protected as you had hoped it would be.

In a thoughtless step, Eomer leaned down and brought his lips to your cheek. He could feel the burn of them under his skin. The way you looked up at him, bewildered and hopeful, brows knitted together in confusion, only made his mouth ache for more. Still, he would not do it unless you said so. He had already overstepped and behaved un-gallantly enough. Hence his surprise when he found your hands gripping at his lapel, obviously not willing to let him go. A soft curve graced his mouth, a pleasant feeling growing in him.

“Can I…?”

Your vigorous nodding let him know exactly what he wanted. Only then did he pull you closer, his hands drawing you in, the warmth you felt from his lips and the tenderness with which his fingers nestled against your jaw below your ears, enough to make you forget about the world around. Delicately, his mouth danced with yours, eager to please and swift to do so. Soon, his wide hand drew you in, pulling you at the waist. Your fingers met his heart through cloth and flesh and bones, beating in a rhythm only known to you both.

“I…”

You bit your lip while you could see him observing you through hooded eyes, his fingertips sending shivers down your arms. He was tracing the hollow of your cheek with his knuckles, leaving you breathless once more. He looked as if he had seen the most marvellous creature in the entire world. You could not believe it was you on the other end of that fantasy.

“I… do not know what to say… I… — Then you don’t need to say anything.”

His fingers found their way down the length of your throat. He looked positively charmed, yet you pulled back, hesitant. What if this had been… just a fling? Just something he could do, just because he wanted to. No other reason. No feelings involved. What if he was playing with you?

“I will. — What?”

He chuckled at your incredulous expression.

“I will say something. — Oh.”

He brought you back to him again, kissing your cheek.

“I…” He kissed your nose. “…will never…” your other cheek. “…ever…” Your fingertips now. “…let you…” This was getting on your nerves and he knew it, smirking behind your hand. “…be seen by anyone else but me, in this state.”

The last words murmured against your cheek, to the shell of your ear, elicited a burning anticipation deep in your bones.

“My King, I would never ever let anyone but me see you in this state. — I don’t think anyone had ever really seen me before you.”

His candid answer surprised you. In a tender caress, he stroked your back through the fabrics of your clothes, not thick enough to keep his touch at bay. A thumb ventured below your breast, too close to be accidental. You inhaled sharply.

“And I will never let anyone else see me like this. If you’ll have me, of course.”

His declaration hit your heart at an arrow’s speed.

“You really mean that? I’m not just a… — You’re not just anything. You are the world and beyond. You are everything. I hope to be everything to…”

Before he could finish, you pulled him down for another kiss. This one arousing and passionate; desires trapped, finally meeting in the middle.

“I will. I absolutely will.”

A heartbeat passed in his arms, trying to keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were asking me to… — … court and eventually marry you? Yes. And you said yes, you cannot take it back now.”

Your laughter rang through him as it rang through the stables, enlightening the new day ahead.

[ofstardustanddreaming]

well loved

preference summary: what they do to remind you you're loved.

content warnings: none

fandom: the lord of the rings

characters: frodo, sam, pippin, merry, boromir, faramir, aragorn, legolas, arwen, eowyn, eomer, galadriel, elrond (if other characters are wanted for future preferences, let me know!)

gender neutral reader

Frodo: He always checks in on you, always wanting to make sure you were doing okay. He's one of those who is more in tune with emotions, and wanting to check in on emotional wellbeing. He wants you to know you'll always have someone to lean on, and he shows you love through his active listening of your problems.

Sam: He's the type to do small tasks around the house for you, wanting to make sure you don't have to worry about anything. He sets up a routine that's nice and homey. He wouldn't have you lifting a finger if he could, wanting to make sure you can be relaxed. You would have to step in at some points, saying you'd want to split the work.

Pippin: He makes you very well included on any inside jokes, wanting to you to know what it's like. He showed his love through humorous jokes, saying he always wanted to see your smile. His love may have been shown through jokes, but he made you feel truly seen, which was a wonderful way to be reminded you're loved by him.

Merry: He loves to give you parts of his food, wanting to make sure you were well fed. He feels wellbeing is tied to being well fed, so he wants to make sure you get a fair share. And I think that Merry himself likes to try cooking once in a while, and likes to give some cooking to you.

Boromir: He always carves out time in his schedule to spend quality time with you. He always loves to have meals together with you, wanting to make it romantic, with something as simple as bringing flowers for the vase in the middle. He shows his love through any amount of time spent with you, wanting to shower you with his compliments.

Faramir: He has subconscious movements to make sure you're okay and safe. Such as holding out a hand during hikes in an area that's heavily rooted, wanting to make sure of your safety to help you balance and find your way. He also loves to place a hand on your back in crowded areas. He always has a special look of love, reserved just for you.

Aragorn: He always likes to recite poetry or songs he comes across that reminds him of you. He always gives you the softest of looks during those moments, and these moments are usually done by the fires in your room. He usually has your back against him, as he whispers them into your ear.

Legolas: He finds a variety of plants that reminds him of you, always bringing them back for you to look at or put somewhere that you deem cool. It's gotten to the point where there's almost too many flowers in your living space, but you also don't have the heart to tell him to stop. It's really sweet to see the variety of flowers he hand picked for you.

Arwen: She loves to sneak kisses from you throughout the day. She's playful, so her showing her love is through playful ways. She loves to take you off guard of when she'll kiss you, and she always loves hearing your laugh afterwards. She loves to watch you get flustered, laughing as she rushes away.

Eowyn: She loves quality time to, wanting to spend time with you. Her favorite ways to showing you love is teaching you some of her favorite moves in training. She shows you what she has learned, and also wants to learn what you know. She wants to make sure the both of you are prepared for anything, and it's a nice way to spend time with each other.

Eomer: He loves to go horseback riding with you. It provides a time where the two of you can talk in peace, where he doesn't feel the pressure of the kingdom. He loves talking with you here, where the two of you don't feel watched. It's a sense of freedom to speak your minds, but the act of horseback riding allows you to go anywhere. He loves to explore with you that way.

Galadriel: She loves turning to you for advice. She may not always agree, but she loves to hear what you have to say. She finds that hearing a variety of perspectives helps her, and she feels that it helps her get closer to you. She always likes to hear what you have to say about some decisions in how she runs her kingdom.

Elrond: He likes to spoil you, simple as that. It doesn't even have to be buying you many things, although he loves doing that as well. It can be just as well showering you with praise, or giving you his full attention, even if it means ignoring his work for a little bit. He loves at his fullest, spoiling you with many things you love.

[myabsurddreamjournal]

Luck (part 1)

Éomer x Female! Reader

Summary: Reader is a maid at Edoras who has a crush on Éomer, What happens when she accidentaly pours wine on him?

.....

Everyone was celebrating the victory in the Great Hall of Edoras. She was hearing the sounds of laughter and dancing, faintly from the outside. Her duty for tonight was waiting here, Serving wine or water if anyone ever comes for getting fresh air.

Maybe it was weird that she volunteered for this, no one seemed to come here anyway. Waiting alone in the balcony. While everyone else is having fun.

But she always liked this kind of duties.

Like grooming horses, picking herbs, cleaning after everyone left. The ones where she didnt need the communicate with the other.

She liked silence,

Sure music was beautiful, and people laughing, dancing, celebrating. It was all beautiful.

But this,

this is something else, Watching the white mountains, the way moonlight reflects on them. It is prettiest shade she ever seen, The dark blue, that she never gets tired of.

And the gentle night breeze on her hair.

Its almost magical to her.

.....

As moon gets lower on the sky "It must be close to end of celebration" y/n thinks. She can tell it from the way sounds from inside quietens slowly.

She smiles to herself thinking this was a beautiful night,

she feels calm. Her mind feels calm.

But like everything beautiful in life her peace is short lived because suddenly footsteps alerts her, someone is coming towards here unfortunately, i hope they leave quickly she thinks as stands up, taking the wine jug on her hand.

To her luck (unluck) owner of the footsteps is may be the last person she wants here. A very tall person with broad body, and long blonde hair that she knows very well. She stared it many times when no one was looking.

Éomer, the kings son.

The powerful Éomer,

The one everyone adores.

The fearless, and strong

And kind.

Her heart beat starts to quicken. Just like whenever she sees him, (from 20 meters apart at most close and more than 20 people around) sneaking galances from window while cleaning. Or when he passes by corridor she is standing.

She takes a deep breath, as he goes to opposite side, his back towards her, he is not drunk she can say, she never seen him drunk anyway, he is always standing on his legs strongly. Like a great warrior he is.

I never seen him this close, he is beautiful.

he will get inside back soon, Calm down. He wont even notice you.

Minutes passes with her battling with herself and her poor attemps to calm herself and he is still looking at mountains motionlessly as if he was a statue.

After few more agonizing moments he finally starts to move, Drinking his wine at one go.

Thanks Eru, he is leaving.

But to her horror instead of leaving he extends his hand that holding the goblet, which is a sign for more wine.

Her mind races.

But, I never served him before! Eru please please help me.

After a few seconds She burts towards him as he starts to turn his head questioningly towards her way, hand still extended.

Dont be a coward this is the simplest duty.

As she starts pouring the wine she relizes her hands are shaking.

Very badly.

Its okay he is not looking, he is looking at mountains.

How long pouring wine can take It? 5 seconds at most maybe, but this time it feels like years to her, years spend with war and agony,

it almost over, You got this. You can do this.

But her body has different plans from her brain. Her hands stafts shaking more as the wine level gets higher on the goblet.

and before she knows it the goblet is full and its overflowing

To his hand.

Oh Eru, please no, this might be a nightmare

...

She doesnt know how much time passed her eyes are closed and she cabr dare look at him.

But when she notices unbereable feeling of his eyes on her.

She has no choice but open them.

Yes, He is looking down at her with unreadable expression,

"F-forgive me s-sire." She says immadietly bowing her head.

But she can see wine is dripping from his hand to floor.

Not knowing what to do, her panicked mind decides it for her, She pulls out her handkerchief , and takes his wine soaked hand in her hand wiping the vine quickly. and gently as possible,

You are touching a royal you fool! This crime is punishible by Death.

she pulls her hand quickly as if she burned by a fire. Éomer's hand falling to his side absurdly and her handkerchief falling to floor.

Eomer opens his mouth but she beats him to it.

"S-sire please dont k-kill me, im too young to d-die" she half yells and runs to inside.

...

Notes: i love how y/n has almost every mental disease.

Also This is Éomer looking down at her

[hottpinkpenguin]

Blessing: Eomer (LoTR) X Fem!Reader

A/n: this got super sappy super fast, sorry y'all. originally requested by @blabladuh Warnings: mentions of battle, gore, blood; implied smut; slight messing with the timeline; sappy fluff; not proofread Word Count: 4045

You unsheathed your sword in one swift, strong movement, the grating sound of steel on steel as the blade scraped against its scabbard. Your horse, Túrion, reared up on his hind legs as Saruman’s Warg-riders charged across the empty plain in front of you. You had only moments before their forces would smash against your company’s line. Turning back to face your comrades, you lifted your sword high into the cold, early dawn air. 

“For King, for country, for your families and homes!” You shouted as loudly as you could manage, hoping your voice carried over the sound of whinnying horses nervous for battle and the growing roar of the Wargs. The faces of the six dozen female warriors at your command – your swordsisters - broke into a unified scream. The battle cry echoed across the dusky plain, and you noted with a grimly satisfied smile that some of the foe balked at the sound. 

Túrion pulled sharply at the bit in his mouth, signaling to you his anxiousness for battle. You felt the same frenzied energy; it had been ricocheting through your bones ever since King Theoden had given you his begrudging permission to mount up and join the rest of the Rohirrim in guarding the citizens of Edoras as they made the dangerous march to the mountain keep at Helm’s Deep. Your nerves came partially from the knowledge that this was the only change you and your swordsisters had of proving your mettle to the rest of Rohan, and partially from knowing that, although you had the king’s blessing to fight, you distinctly did not have the blessing of his heir and your lover, Eomer. 

As another bloodthirsty cry erupted from the lines of mounted soldiers behind you, you gave Túrion his head, kicking him into a gallop as you thrust your blade high and forward, signaling the charge. 

“For Middle Earth!” The riders behind you echoed your call to arms as the company leapt to action. 

The sound of hundreds of hooves pounding into the frostbitten ground roared to life as your unit charged forward to meet the oncoming Warg-riders. Your mind slipped into a red haze of battle-fueled fury as your sword sliced through its first victim, then its next, and so on, until you and your sword were one and the same. 

* * * * *

The sun was high in the sky by the time you re-sheathed your sword. The muscles of your sword-arm shoulder screamed in relief as you let go of the weight of your blade. You swung down off Túrion’s saddle, examining your stallion’s wounds. Most were superficial cuts, but there was a deep gash cut into the meat of his left flank. Dark crimson blood stained his grey speckled coat, and he whinnied in protest as you gently prodded the rough edges of the wound. It would require cleaning and sewing, you decided, which meant you wouldn’t ride him for a few weeks while it healed. 

“My brave, brave boy,” you cooed at him tenderly as you moved to the front of his body, stroking his sweaty neck sweetly. You saw his eyes soften at the sound of your voice. You let your forehead fall forward to connect to his snout. He chuffed at you lovingly, rubbing his nose on you as if to reassure you he was alright. Túrion had been your horse for almost ten years, and he’d joined you in every battle you’d fought in so far. 

“It seems your horse fared better than you, my lady.” The voice behind you was reproachful but laced with relief. You smiled, ignoring the admonishment in Eomer’s words as you turned to face him. 

“Eomer,” you sighed dreamily, your voice misty with exhaustion as you let him envelop you with his arms. The layers of armor and chain mail and fighting leather between you left you unhappily separate from his reassuring warmth, but the knowledge that he – like you – had survived the Warg attack made you weak in the knees with joy. 

“You’re hurt, Y/n,” he mumbled gruffly against your hair as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. 

You pulled back from him, puzzled. You hadn’t noticed any injuries during the battle, although it was very possible that adrenaline had dulled your awareness. 

“I am?” you replied in bewilderment. You lifted your arms gingerly, trying to feel for the injury more than look for it. There was an appalling amount of blood and sinew and entrails staining your armor; all of it from your enemies, you’d assumed, although Eomer seemed to disagree. 

“Your head,” he said by way of clarification. His expression was pained as he touched the side of your face up towards your right temple. Although his pressure was gentle, you noted a tenderness at his touch, and his fingertips were tacky with half-dried blood when he withdrew his hand. Your mind idly flicked through the memories of the battle, trying to identify when you’d been injured. You knew some of the Warg-riders dipped their blades in poison – usually the officers – and if the injury had come from one of them, you’d need to see an apothecary for the herbal antidote. You had a vague recollection of your helmet being knocked from your head by an errant arrow. As you tried to piece the memory together, you realized that the arrow must have sideswiped your skull, leaving a shallow albeit bloody gash there. 

“I’m fine, it was an arrow,” you sighed in relief as you gently ran your hand along the cut. It was narrow and straight – most certainly the work of an arrow rather than a blade. You saw Eomer’s shoulders visibly relax; his mind must have raced to the possibility of poison just as yours had. 

“Thank the Gods,” he breathed out, cupping your cheeks in both his hands as your foreheads connected. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you enjoyed the sound of his breathing syncing with yours. The sounds of the fading battle and dismounting riders around you faded into the back of your awareness as you let Eomer’s presence wash over you. 

When you finally drew back to meet his gaze, you saw the anger that he’d tamped down just long enough to ensure you’re safety flare to life in his honey-brown eyes. 

“What in the devil are you playing at, exactly?” he snarled accusatorily. You had to suppress a chuckle at his rage. He was the bravest man you knew, like one of the royal knights of old out of a children’s fairytale, but when it came down to you, his protective anger reminded you of an hissing, spitting kitten. You wanted nothing more than to pepper him with kisses and have him walk you to a nice, warm bath, although you knew that your doting affection would only enrage him further.

In an attempt to hide your smile, you turned back to Túrion, undoing his breast collar and easing the saddle off his back. 

“Whatever do you mean, my Lord?” Try as you might, you couldn’t quite extinguish the note of teasing in your sarcastic question. Eomer’s nostrils flared in response. He grabbed your upper arm, pulling you about to face him. His eyes were simmering, his handsome lips pursed so tightly they were white against his sun-tanned skin.

“You rode into battle knowing you didn’t have my blessing,” Eomer growled. He released your arm as a few of his men walked past, eyeing the two of you surreptitiously with sidelong glances. Your romance with Eomer was no longer a secret, although both of you tried to keep your personal affairs separate from your roles in Rohan’s military. 

“I had the King’s blessing,” you snapped back once his men were out of earshot. “Last I checked, the King’s blessing still outweighed yours, Lord of the Mark.” Using Túrion’s saddle as a buffer, you brushed past him, leading your horse by the bridle towards the line of soldiers pulling back from the corpse-riddled battlefield towards the shadowy mountains off the west, where the safety of Helm’s Deep thick stone walls awaited. You could practically feel the heat from Eomer’s gaze boring into the back of your head as you walked away. 

Let him burn himself out, you told yourself as part of your instincts yearned to turn back and make peace. You knew Eomer’s anger came from a place of protectiveness, and you loved him for his devotion. By the same token, you also wanted him to realize that a warrior’s blood pulsed through your veins. It wasn’t your fate to be a lady of Rohan’s court, waving embroidered handkerchiefs at him as he rode off into a glorious death in battle. Your fate was to ride out next to him and meet your enemies standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Like him, you would lay down your life to protect those you loved. You’d never dream of taking that away from him; and you expected him to give you the same latitude in return. 

Holding your chin high, you let your feet carry you away from him, eventually getting lost in the crowd. You’d be lying if you said your pride wasn’t a bit wounded that he didn’t chase you down, but he didn’t. Eomer was far too proud for that.

* * * * *

It wasn’t until nightfall that you reached Helm’s Deep. The adrenaline of battle had long worn off by then, and you were beginning to feel every bump and bruise covering your body. Based on the scattered reports you’d picked up on from the other unit commanders, you knew that the battle was far from over. Saruman’s main force was marching towards Helm’s Deep as you spoke. The Warg-riders had been little but a scouting force. You only hoped to have enough time to eat and, if the Gods were merciful, rest. 

Once you’d seen Túrion to the stables and tasked a stable hand with patching up his wound, you made your way towards the main hall of the keep. Theoden’s court had assembled there, and he’d ordered all of his unit commanders to adjourn there for a hot meal and battle strategy. Thankfully, your company had lost relatively few of its number, while others had sustained heavy losses. Despite the bone-deep fatigue that pulled at your eyelids, you forced yourself to stay keen to the king’s brief on his strategy for the coming conflict. Given that your company was still majority intact, you suspected that you’d be part of the castle’s main defensive force along the lower ramparts. 

It wasn’t purely exhaustion that threatened to pull your focus elsewhere; from across the dimly lit hall, you could see Eomer at his usual place to the king’s immediate left. His expression was somber, and you doubted that anyone noticed the slight groove between his eyebrows that betrayed his inner turmoil. But you knew his face the same way you knew the feel of breath in your lungs. You’d be able to feel his emotions in the dark. 

After the king dismissed the company leaders under strict instructions to rest as much as possible, you felt your feet automatically lead you up towards the head table where Theoden, Gamling, and Eomer sat together, their heads bowed as they continued to talk of strategy. Noticing your approach, Theoden smiled at you warmly and waved his nephew off.

Eomer protested his uncle’s dismissal, partially out of a sense of duty and partially to spite you, but Theoden would hear none of it. “Soldiers are never guaranteed another sunset, Eomer,” he chided his nephew sternly but not unkindly. “Don’t waste this one mulling over the details of tomorrow’s doom. Go. Be with your heart.” 

Theoden’s words touched you, and you bowed your head gratefully at him as Eomer rose with a sullen pout. As you turned to follow a very surly Eomer out of the hall, you swore you saw Theoden shoot you a conspiratorial wink. 

The walk to Eomer’s chambers was quiet, although not tense. There was an understanding between you two: despite your quarrel, both of you expected to spend the evening together. And although there were differences of opinion, you knew that you were secure in his affections, just as he knew the same of you. You and Eomer had been doing this dance for too long to let something so petty drive a wedge between you, especially on a night like tonight. You weren’t sure if it was your imagination, but at times you swore you felt the faintest tremor in the mountain that Helm’s Deep was cut into, a foreshadow of the unimaginable force marching your way. Theoden’s scouts had reported an army as large as ten thousand strong, pouring out of Isengard’s gates. The very notion of ten thousand was almost beyond your imaginings, and it pierced your heart with an unmuted terror. You knew Eomer felt it too - everyone did. 

Perhaps it was that shared terror that kept both of you silent as you entered Eomer’s chambers. He closed the door behind you softly, dismissing the guard who stood watch by the doorway. You’d only been to Helm’s Deep once before, but the chamber was exactly as you remembered. The court servants who had fled Edoras with the rest of the nobility had brought with them precious few luxuries, but among them were a pile of freshly laid towels, a bar of soap, and an array of candles spread throughout the room. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw steam rising from the simple, porcelain tub in the corner of the room. A warm bath was exactly what you needed right now. Sweat and dried blood from the morning’s battle had dried on your skin and in your hair. You weren’t a particularly vain person - your lifestyle hadn’t afforded you such luxuries - but you were not above enjoying a thorough soak and a soft bed to lay your head on at night. 

Without sharing a word, you and Eomer began removing your armor. Unlike earlier, where his anger hung around him like a stormcloud, his mood now moved in the direction of contemplative. You felt his gaze on your face as you lifted the heavy chainmail tunic you wore under your leather armor over your head. With the weight of your armor removed, your limbs felt loose and light. As you swung your dirty braid over one shoulder and began undoing the plaits, Eomer finally broke the silence. 

“I never get tired of seeing you like this, you know.” HIs voice was softer than you expected, and it caused your breath to snag in your chest. You lifted your eyes to him as you shook out the roots of your hair. His face was streaked with dirt from the fight, and there was a dark blue bruise that you hadn’t noticed earlier blooming under one eye. But beneath the grime and his week-old stubble, you saw a soft smile gracing his lips and a gentle light in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Like what, my lord?” you replied teasingly as you unlaced the bottom layer of your armor - a heavy tunic made of quilted wool. The chill damp of the air felt delicious against your bare skin. You didn’t relish the idea of re-donning everything in just a few hours, especially given that you wouldn’t have time to wash the tunic or clean the plated armor, but for the moment it felt incredible to be rid of those putrid, heavy layers. 

“Undressed, in my chambers.” Eomer’s reply was somewhat muffled by the hem of his own tunic, which had snagged around his head while he was undressing. You laughed at the sight of the Lord of the Riddemark, future King of Rohan, half-naked with a dirty tunic wrapped around his neck. You stepped over to him and helped untie a few more laces at the neck of the tunic, easing his head through the opening and freeing him from the confines of the tunic at last. 

“Such language in front of a lady,” you replied mirthfully as Eomer gestured towards the tub. You accepted his invitation gratefully, stepping one foot into the warm water and then another. The bathwater turned grimy as you let your body sink beneath the surface of the bathwater, dipping your head back to wet your hair. 

From outside the tub, Eomer grabbed the bar of soap and wetted it before running it over your hair to form a lather. When he began rubbing your scalp with firm fingers, you let out an audible moan as you let your head lean back against the edge of the bath. 

He chuckled as you gave yourself over to the incredible sensation.

“I see no lady here,” he replied after a moment, earning a playful glare from you and a splash of bathwater in his direction. He dodged the blow easily, letting out a laugh of his own. 

“Your manners need work, my lord.” Your retort had little bite to it; you were too mesmerized by the patterns Eomer’s fingers wove against your scalp. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you let relaxation seep into every fiber of your body.

“No lady,” he continued, bending down until his beard tickled your ear. “Only a woman. My woman.” Your toes curled under the surface of the water as he dragged those last two words over the gravel in his voice. Sensing he’d plucked the right chord, Eomer chuckled proudly as he planted a kiss to the soft skin in front of your ear. You reached up to grab his hair and pull him to your lips, but he’d already withdrawn. Your eyes opened just in time to see him sink into the bath next to you, the water level rising dangerously close to the lip of the tub. Like you, he grunted in appreciation as the warmth of the water began to work out the kinks in his tired muscles. 

You allowed him to settle against the far edge of the bath before you moved towards him. He opened his arms in a well-rehearsed move, allowing you to settle between his strong thighs and lean back against his firm torso before wrapping you with his arms. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, his cheek coming to rest on your freshly rinsed hair. This was not the first time you had shared such intimacy with your lover; far from it, in fact. But, much like he had pointed out earlier, there was no dulling of affection between you two. Instead, you felt your feelings for him deepen with each passing day. 

As the two of you sat together in the cooling water, you traced absentminded circles over his forearm. Your gaze landed on the dancing flame of a nearby candle as you let your mind wander into a space just shy of sleep. You felt Eomer’s breath deepen against your back as he too relaxed into the quiet. 

After several minutes of companionable silence, you squeezed his arm to rouse him from his reverie.

“Do I have your blessing for the battle ahead, my lord?” Although you used the same playful tone you’d employed moments prior, the question was a serious one. You felt Eomer tense ever so slightly behind you as he considered his response. 

Sensing his hesitation, you pressed on.

“You know I will fight tomorrow, with or without it.” Eomer tensed further at your callous words, although both of you knew they were true. You let your tone soften as you added, “although I would feel all the better for it if I had your blessing.” 

He let out a soft sigh, shaking his head slightly. 

“Whatever did I do to find myself in love with a woman such as yourself?” Each of his words was drenched in devotion, and the sound of it made you curl against him as he squeezed you tightly. It wasn’t a direct answer, but you understood his meaning. His blessing wasn’t something to give or take away; you always had it. Eomer had known what you were long before he’d fallen into your bed, and you’d been certain not to soften those parts of yourself that found a home in battle just for his sake. 

“You are truly one of the lucky few,” you cooed back, relishing the sensation of him nuzzling down against the skin where your neck and shoulder connected. You reached a hand up behind you, lightly gripping the back of his head and encouraging him to let it hang gently against yours. He obliged, sighing contentedly as you began twirling strands of his hair around your fingers. 

“I swear to the Gods, y/n, sometimes I don’t know if you’re my salvation or my downfall.” His confession came with a distinct note of pain. You knew that pain well: it was the pain of loving a warrior. The pain of having to say a potential goodbye each time they rode into battle. The pain of subsuming the urge to protect him at any and every cost under the need to follow orders. It was the pain of frantically searching for an all-too familiar face amongst the bodies of the dead on a battlefield. It was a unique kind of pain, and one that both of you had known you’d always live with when you’d allowed yourselves to fall in love. 

You ignored the way the bathwater sloshed over the edge of the tub as you turned to face him. His eyes were misty as you cupped his handsome face in your hands, running your thumbs tenderly along his cheekbones. 

“Eomer… my love…” Before you could finish your thought, he pulled you against him, his lips meeting yours greedily. In an instant, you recognized the intention behind his kiss. A knot of desire began to coil in your stomach as your fingers tangled in his hair. He pressed his kiss down into your mouth harder, and you felt the mingling of fear, pride, devotion, and love in behind that pressure. Your chest bloomed with heat as the kiss deepened. Suddenly, Eomer rose from his seated position and stepped out of the bath, his muscles tensing enticingly with the quick, agile movement. Bending down to lace an arm under your legs and one behind your back, he lifted you quickly from the now tepid, grimy water. He carried you to the bed with a purposeful heat simmering in his eyes, making that knot in your stomach tighten further as butterflies began to take flight in your lungs. He laid you on the soft blanket, his arms coming to frame your shoulders as he settled his body over top yours, caging you in between his flexed biceps. Just before his mouth met yours again, you lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips. He froze, his eyes on you with curiosity and a hint of frustration. 

“Your blessing, Eomer,” you said breathily, trying to tamp down your own impatience. “I want your blessing.” It had never felt important before, but the longer your mind lingered on the battle ahead, the more compelled you felt to hear those words. 

His honey brown eyes danced with delight as you withdrew your finger, allowing him to speak freely. He didn’t hesitate.

“You have it.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“You have my blessing always.” Another kiss at the corner of your mouth. 

“Today.” Your jawline. “Tomorrow.” Your collarbone. “For all of your days.” Your shoulder. “And all of mine.” Back to your lips. 

Your heart seized in your chest as the tenderness of the moment bewitched you. Eomer hovered over you, each of you basking in each other’s gaze for another heartbeat. You saw the tender light in his eyes turn molten just as your own mind turned back to the needs of your body. 

“Now, my lady,” he whispered. “Allow me to show you exactly how much of this lord’s blessing you’ve earned.” He dove down to kiss at the now cleaned skin above your breasts, earning a delighted cry from you as you let your eyes flutter close. 

Somewhere in the darkness covering Rohan, an army ten-thousand strong marched closer; but for that moment, your love chased away the dark…

[sotwk]

Saw that Wet-Eomer and Wet-Boromir are themes here so here goes my 4AM brain...

Eomer with an Gondorian OFC, who decides to teach him to swim (between his duties and the lack of a suitable place to learn, our boy cannot swim) and when he's undressing, he slides in some mud so he ends up falling in while still in his shirt, pants, and boots. (Maybe after she laughs, Eomer tugs her in with him)

And..

Boromir falls out of the boats (between Lothlorien and Argonath) because he and Leggy were being a little goofy with the paddles. He manages not to let the little ones fall out, but he is definitely soaking. He has to dry out by Sam's cookfire afterwards.

BRILLIANT. JUST BRILLIANT!!!

Can we get some writers on these imagines, please? Pronto?

I mean... a "Gondorian OFC" who lives near a body of water and is probably good at swimming. Don't we already know a canon lady who fits those qualifications? XD Any Lothiriel fans want to take this one? I do adore the headcanon that Eomer cannot swim, though! I've been racking my brain for weaknesses and I'm kinda kicking myself now not to think of this one!

Boromir being a goofball while still taking care to protect the Hobbits is peak blorbo behavior! And when he dries out by the fire, he really should take the shirt OFF to hasten the process, right? Right?? What a fantastic fluffy drabble this would make!

Thank you again so much for sharing these! If anyone at all decides to write them, PLEASE TAG ME!

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Courting Eomer Would Include

- with regards to chivalry? Eomer invented it

- he’s treated you like royalty from the moment he first laid eyes on you, regardless of what your status may have been

- he has always treated you as a new blessing upon his life, even after being together for years, and that will never change

- despite acquiring a high status because of your relationship with Eomer, the two of you decided to live in a small cottage, rather than staying in the castle

- you prefer the more homely sense of life, and the separation from political matters that Eomer has to deal with on a daily basis

- cooking together consists of you cooking while Eomer hugs you from behind and watches you while showering you with compliments on your cooking skills

- Eomer is a family man, so obviously he’s going to be curious about whether you want children or not

- he’s very keen to know what your future holds, but because he wants to spend forever with you, he’s in no rush, and he is incredibly patient with all obstacles that the two of you face

- you and Éowyn are very good friends, you spend a lot of time together, and whenever Eomer is unsure of your whereabouts, the most likely place to find you, is wherever Éowyn is

- Eomer is fiercely protective, and has been known to get a little jealous of other men flirting with you, but he is never angry towards you, he only ever shows you love and kindness

- he’s always finding new and wonderful nicknames for you that he will refer to you as, no matter who’s around

“Good evening my starlit angel, how has your day been?”

“Well hello radiant sunflower, what a surprise to see you here!”

“Have any of you seen my ray of moonlight?“

- big fan of PDA, loves swinging an arm around your shoulders and kissing your temple whenever he sees you

- also has a habit of winking at you from across the room, as though he’s trying to woo you even when you’ve been in a relationship for years

- loves giving you piggybacks from one building in Rohan to another, even if they’re only a few paces apart

- when he gives you piggybacks, he makes horse sounds and only responds to being called your “trusty steed”

- honestly who needs to think about kids when your boyfriend acts like one anyway

- when the two of you go on walks around Rohan together, he’ll hold your hand and swing your hands in between you as you walk, smiling proudly at anyone you see because he’s just so proud to be yours

- when you have to leave the room for any reason, you’ll stand on your tiptoes to kiss Eomer’s cheek before you go, and no matter how many times you or anyone else sees it, he will never admit that he blushes

- you often accompany him to the bar in the evenings, to socialise with your friends

- people have often made the mistake of challenging you to their drinking games, and while most men of the time would never even think to let their woman participate in such “manly” activities, Eomer simply laughs at the poor souls that challenge you and watches with pride as you completely destroy them at their drinking games

- he brags about you to his friends 24/7, but he will never tell them that he lets you braid his hair in the evenings

- cuddles while at home are a near constant thing for the two of you, and Eomer will use any excuse he can think of in order to gain affection from you

“Sweetheart, my lips are rather cold, do you think you could warm them with yours?”

“Oh dear lord! I think I just saw a very small and partially invisible orc! The only way to protect you from this very specific orc breed is to have you sat on my lap, Im afraid this is the only solution!”

- Eomer loves you more than he has ever loved anything else in existence, and he will continue to do so for the rest of your forever

[fizzyxcustard]

Imagine that it’s Aragorn’s coronation celebration. Both Eomer and Legolas have their eye on you.

[cauliflowertree]

eomer

first kiss & leaving notes

when he’s banished he leaves a note in his spot with y/n and y/n finds it and flees the city and goes to find him & he’s waiting for them not too far away, like on the borders and they get to him at night & he’s sitting by the fire alone and it’s like yay reunion & first kiss :D

YO THIS??? THIS DRAFT???? ^^^^ is from MONTHS ago (probably like a year ago) but why does it slap and why do i want to write it now?

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

LOTR/ The Hobbit Preference: How You Met (3/4)

(1) (2) (4)

Aragorn

Aragorn and you met when you were a guest in Rivendell. You were reading in the library and once he spotted you he couldn’t help but introduce himself.

Getting lost in the tale of the large book in your lap, you didn’t notice someone approaching your comfortable spot on the fancy elvish lounge.

“Hello.” You heard a gentle voice announce.

Startled, your legs jumped down from the couch and were quickly placed on the ground below, book thrown beside you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. My names Aragorn.”

“It’s alright, in a world of my own. My names y/n, it’s lovely to meet you.” You smile up at the handsome man before you.

Bard

Bard and you met one evening at a lavish elvish ball in Mirkwood. Bard felt very out of place at such a fancy party, but you managed to remedy his anxieties.

“Are you alright?” Bard heard from beside him. Turning he notice a lovely elf standing beside him.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, not fully catching what you had said.

You can’t help but giggle at the handsome mortal man’s confusion.

“I was just asking if you were alright, you seem a little nervous.”

“Oh, hah, yeh. I’m just not used to such lavish parties.” He responded nervously.

“I understand, they can be a little intimidating sometimes. Would you care for some company, we don’t have to dance but it might help to have a friend. I’m y/n, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“A friend sounds nice. I’m Bard, nice to meet you.”

Boromir

Boromir found you one afternoon on a snowy day in Gondor, taking your horse for a walk. Being new to Gondor you’d decided to get to know the land and become familiar with your new home.

Petting the dark brown mane of your horse, you turn as you heard the crunching of the snow.

“Oh, hello.” You turn to see the handsome man before you.

“Hello, my lady. Are you alright out here?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Im alright, just going for a walk. I thought I’d get to know the town. I’m y/n, I just moved here last week.” You introduced.

“I’m glad you’re alright, my lady. Such a cold and snowy day, I didn’t want you getting harmed. I’m Boromir, a pleasure to meet you.” He smiles sweetly, talking your hand and giving it a light kiss.

Eomer

Eomer and you first met at the battle of helms deep. He knew immediately that you were a witch when he laid eyes on you and immediately was filled with distrust. It wasn’t until you healed his sister that he let his guard down.

“Aragorn, let me assist.” You announced as you walked over to the two men and the young woman on the cot.

“You leave us be, witch, we don’t need your kind of help.” Eomer sneered.

“Eomer, let her help. I know how magic has affected you and your family but y/n is a very powerful healer and I give you my word that she means you no harm.” Aragorn defended you.

His attitude was changed as he saw his sister awaken, life returning to her eyes. Walking away, you let the siblings have their moment together.

“Y/n!” You heard Eomer shout.

Turning you see him standing before you.

“I apologise for how I’ve behaved toward you and I thank you for helping my sister and fighting beside us.” He spoke softly.

Faramir

Faramir met you the first time he came to The Shire after the war. You had been sitting in a field making daisy chains and flower crowns with the young hobbits.

Your laugh filled his ears like sweet bells. Turning he saw you sitting in the lush field, surrounded by flowers and smiling little hobbits.

“You should go and talk to her.” Aragorn smiled at the blushing man.

“Her names y/n. Shes a friend of Rosie’s, comes into town every now and then to help with the children and sell her jam.” Samwise smirked at Faramir at his other side.

“Y/n.” He smiled with wonder in his eyes

Walking over his smile grew the closer he got.

“Hello, my lady. I heard you were the one to go to if I wanted to become an expert flower crown maker.” He smirks down at your seated position in the grass.

“Well you heard right. I’m y/n.” You beamed up at the handsome man.

“Faramir.” He politely bowed.

[wordbunch]

LOTR characters taking care of an overworked partner

a/n: this was requested by @tolkien-fantasy , hope you all like it! do let me know 😊 enjoy 💕

includes: Aragorn, Éomer, Faramir, Frodo

ARAGORN

notices fairly quickly that you’re basically tripping over yourself at one point

is quite good at massages, especially for back and legs, and he will use that ability on you

talks to you about how you feel and why

tries to reassure you there is no need to push yourself so hard all the time

will take you to some serene, beautiful place in nature, but not somewhere far where you’d have to walk a lot

it’s like, such things help him unwind and reset, and he wants to try and help you too in the same way

will hold your hand all the time and kiss the back of it every now and then

sings to you in a low, soothing voice

❋

ÉOMER

takes him just a bit more time to realize you’re not being your usual self

but as soon as he does, he’s basically dragging you to bed

will literally pick you up and just carry you

he will fluff your pillows and tuck you in if you’re cold

can’t cook to save his life, but he will ask someone to make you food and then he will bring it to you

this man is basically at professional at full body massages. yes.

you completely relax and melt under his touch, and he’s more than happy to pamper you in this particular way

tries to braid your hair but eventually fails, which makes you laugh heartily, and then he doesn’t mind failing at it, as long as you’re happy

❋

FARAMIR

picks up on it immediately and persuades you to just go to bed

and of course he will keep you company and do whatever you wish him to

he brings you food and drinks in bed so you don’t even have to get up

if you want to rant about something, he will listen as he runs his fingers through your hair soothingly

if you’re too tired to talk, he understands that too

you cuddle with him as the big spoon!!!

he will read to you as he sits beside you on the bed and either runs one hand through your hair, or he fiddles with your fingers absentmindedly

soft kisses all over your face just before you fall asleep

❋

FRODO

he immediately knows when you’re exhausted and he becomes worried quickly

so he will prepare a picnic in a flowery meadow as fast as he can

with your favorite desserts and fruit

will talk to you about anything and everything to get your mind off of everything you had/have to do

as you ramble on about stuff, he will place little flowers in your hair

you end up making flower crowns together

if you drift off to sleep during one of his stories, he just chuckles to himself

gives you a forehead kiss and lets you take a well-deserved nap

_

💕 everything taglist 💕

@starlady66 @lotrnonsense @entishramblings

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Healing Hands- Eomer x OC

Eomer x Kitra

Description: Kitra is one of the many healers sent to Helm’s Deep to aid Rohan in their battle against Isengard and meets a certain Rohirrim Prince.

Word Count: 2.3k

The Battle of Helm’s Deep had been a long and gruesome fight. Of course, Kitra didn’t know the full extent of it until it was over. While both of her older sisters were more acclimated to battle, she preferred to clean up afterwards. Her talent lied in healing, not a sword.

That’s why while her sisters fought alongside Men and Elves alike, she was helping the other healers prepare beds for the eventual high number of injured soldiers. It was a real hit or miss as they all waited because, from what they heard, there was a high chance that they would not see the light of tomorrow. The room was filled with tension as they (impatiently) awaited to hear word of what was going on.

It was very overwhelming when tomorrow finally arrived and the healers were bombarded by what felt like thousands of injured soldiers. Kitra was immediately put to work by Lady Mirabella of Lothlorien, doing as much as she could to ease the pain of the soldiers. She worked for hours upon hours on soldiers of various races, even sitting with a few who got to her just a little too late. There were a few times where she had to step out of the room to make sure she didn’t cry in front of anyone. She took the deaths of those who she attempted to help very personally. At most she was gone for a few minutes at a time before remembering that there were some who still needed her, so she walked back in and got back to work.

Eventually she was allowed a break from healing to just go around and ensure the comfort of those who weren’t a top priority. That included cleaning and redressing a wound, getting some water, an extra pillow, more blankets, etc. Many soldiers had been assigned a single room with a few others as they didn’t need immediate attention with eyes on them at all times, so that’s where Kitra had been making her rounds. Most patients, despite not needing eyes on them, were still bedridden. So, Kitra would just knock then enter as she didn’t want them to have to get up.

That’s what she’d done with one room, and she immediately regretted it. Upon knocking twice then opening the door, she wasn’t met with a room full of two or three patients. Instead she was met with a singular man who looked like he was taking off his armor. The man, obviously surprised by the abrupt entrance, whipped around to face her with wide eyes.

It only took a split second for Kitra to recognize him. She’d talked with a healer of Rohan and discovered who their King was and if he had any kin. It was there that she learned of King Theoden, and his niece and nephew Eowyn and Eomer (as well as his son Theodred, who’d recently passed away as a result of an Uruk-hai attack). Now, Kitra had already seen Theoden at least once, so the healer only had to describe the Prince and Princess.

Based on her description, Kitra could conclude that she was standing in the presence of the Prince of Rohan. Once the realization hit her, the girl found herself curtsying with wide eyes, an embarrassed blush on her face.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” she said quickly. “I thought this was the room of another injured soldier.” She spared a quick glance at him, and noticed him shake his head.

“Please, it is okay. No harm done,” he answered with a patient smile, gesturing for her to stand normally, which she did. “I’m not in need of any healing, so you may go if you please.”

“Very well,” the girl answered, curtsying one last time. As she turned to walk out, she caught sight of the Prince’s arm. There was a large gash on the side of it that started as his elbow and ended just past the middle of his forearm. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but he likely hadn’t noticed it as his adrenaline was still pumping from battle.

“Uh, Your Majesty…” she trailed off, eyes still on his arm. Eomer’s eyes met hers, a curious glint in them.

“Yes?”

“Your arm,” she gestured to it. The Prince’s gaze fell to his arm and he turned it to get a better look. His eyebrows shot up at the sight, and Kitra continued.

“It doesn’t look too bad, but it will get infected if it doesn’t get cleaned and dressed soon,” she explained gently. “May I?” The man was silent for a moment, but he eventually nodded and allowed her further inside. Kitra closed the door behind her then dug into the satchel slung over her shoulder for the right supplies.

“Sit down, please,” she instructed gently. Eomer did so, and she kneeled beside him after grabbing the bowl of water that sat on the bedside table. She had an extra cloth in her bag, so she dipped it into the water before carefully grabbing the Prince’s wrist. As she began dabbing at the wound, she glanced up at him.

“I can bring you another bowl of water when I’m done, but it’s just quicker to use this one,” she muttered.

“It’s no worry,” Eomer answered simply. “From what I hear, we will be returning to Rohan soon so there is no need.” The girl nodded in response as she dipped the now bloody cloth into the bowl once again. While she continued to work, she could feel the Prince’s eyes on her, examining her.

“Pardon me if I sound rude, but I’ve prided myself on getting to know as many people in my Kingdom as possible. I have no memory of you, though, nor do I recognize the symbol in your cuff,” he gestured to the cuff of her sleeve, which held the Wanita Hutan’s crest. “And based on your ears and dark hair I don’t believe you’re an Elf,” he commented. A small smile graced the girl’s face while she began dressing the wound.

“Wonderful observation, Your Majesty, I am not an Elf. And no, your memory does not fail you. We have never met until today because I do not belong to Rohan. My name is Kitra Underlake, I am a healer of the Wanita Hutan.”

“Wanita Hutan?” Eomer repeated curiously, earning a nod from the girl.

“Of the MapleElm realm,” she clarified. “It was the men and women of our Kingdom that aided your victory just this morning.” An embarrassed blush appeared on Eomer’s face and he averted his eyes.

“I’m afraid I was more focused on winning the battle than who I was beside,” he admitted apologetically. “I hadn’t thought about it until you said that.”

“I doubt you would have known who they were even if you were paying attention,” Kitra brushed off. “We are not a very well known Kingdom as we don’t like a lot of outsiders. My Queen Indah only allowed us to aid Rohan because we are allies of the Fellowship and promised help if/when they needed. Now, I’m no fighter, but I believe that my healing abilities are a good enough reason for me to be here.” As she finished her explanation she finished wrapping the bandage around his arm. Once she finished, she packed all her supplies then grabbed the bowl of (now bloody) water and stood.

“All done.” The Prince took a moment to examine his now bandaged forearm, then looked at her with a grin.

“I thank you, My Lady,” he muttered as he stood. Apparently both of them had miscalculated how close they’d be when they were both standing because now they were practically chest to chest. Both of their eyes widened and they froze, their brains simultaneously short circuiting as they didn’t know what to do. Kitra’s eyes met Eomer’s which entranced her for a moment. His were gorgeous, dark brown irises only showing deviation around the pupil, where a golden/hazel ring lay around the pupil. When she finally snapped out of whatever trance she was in, a deep blush coated her cheeks and she cleared her throat.

“Make sure you clean and rewrap your arm twice a day until the wound fully closes. If you require more bandages, just go to the healers,” she instructed softly before curtsying and walking out of the room to continue her duties.

Finally, the rest of the healing was left to the Elves as their capabilities far surpassed that of any Man. While they did that, the people of Rohan returned to their homes, inviting the surviving Wanita Hutan and Lothlorien soldiers for a celebration of victory. Queen Indah, who figured her people deserved to celebrate, allowed them to go.

As Kitra walked with the rest of her people, she couldn’t help but glance at the back of Prince Eomer, who rode near the front of the travelers. She had no idea what happened earlier with him, but she couldn’t get it out of her head. He was an attractive man, and she knew based on a few people she’d talked to that he cared about his Kingdom fiercely. So the fact that she’d shared such an intimate moment, even if it was only for a minute, knocked the breath out of her when she thought about it.

Once everyone had made it back to Edoras, preparations were made for the celebration of all the soldiers and healers that did their part. Kitra, who had managed to find her sisters once arriving in Rohan, changed into more appropriate attire for a party in the same room before promising to meet the others later. Citra wished to find Boromir, and all Netra cared about was finding a pint of ale and continuing a discussion she’d been having with Alphine from earlier (something about Elves or another, she couldn’t quite remember).

Kitra was the last to arrive at the Golden Hall, and apparently most of the people inside had already had several drinks by this point based on the volume alone. A small, amused smile played at her lips as she began weaving her way through the crowd to find a drink. It didn’t take her long to find a small stack of barrels behind a table. It looked like Legolas and Gimli were setting up for some sort of drinking game. Kitra was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Eomer who’d be distributing the drinks, and her smile widened as she walked over to him.

“Got a pint to spare?” She asked upon approaching him. Eomer whipped around and, just like her, he was pleasantly surprised to see her.

“I’m sure I can manage one,” he answered easily, pouring ale into a cup and setting it in front of her while she took a seat at the table. He offered her a small smile before filling up a few more pints and setting them in front of the Dwarf and Elf.

“No pauses,” Eomer stated, setting two tankards in front of the two. “No spills.”

“And no regurgitation,” Gimli added, lifting the tankard to his lips.

“So, it’s a drinking game?” Legolas clarified, glancing at Alphine, who nodded as Gimli drank his tankard all in one go.

“Last one standing wins,” Brooke, who also sat there, concluded, gauging his still slightly confused expression and giggling. “Don’t worry, Merry and Pippin did this a whole bunch of times back at the Green Dragon. You’ll be fine.” The elf finally nodded then began drinking as the others watched.

“Any bets?” Kitra heard from beside her. She glanced to the side and saw Eomer staring at her expectantly.

“Oh, Legolas all the way,” she answered without hesitation, taking a sip from her tankard afterwards. “Elves are unmatched in their drinking abilities.”

“I don’t know about that,” the Prince shot back. “If you asked me, I’d say that Dwarves are a worthy competitor. This one may even win with how many he’s downed so far.”

“Ah, but it's not about speed, Your Majesty, it’s about how many. My money is on the Elf,” she shrugged with a grin.

“I’ll take that bet,” Eomer responded, returning her grin before holding out his tankard to her, which she quickly tapped with her own before they took a drink in unison then faced the competition.

Nearly half an hour later the hall had gotten significantly louder as people got more drunk (which is saying something). Gimli giggled drunkenly before taking another gulp from his tankard. He began singing a shanty, but quickly quieted down when Legolas expressed concern about the ale affecting him based on the tingling sensation in his fingers.

“What did I say?” Gimli slurred with a chuckle. “He can’t hold his liquor.” Not even ten seconds after he said that, his eyes became crossed. Kitra watched with raised eyebrows as he sat quietly for a moment then keeled over backwards off his stool. Legolas mimicked her expression then faced Eomer.

“Game over.”

“Wonderful job meleth (love),” Alphine said, resting her hand on his arm. “I believe it’s time for a small break now.” Once they walked away to find him some water, Kitra turned to face Eomer.

“Well, I believe I win,” she said with a triumphant smirk. A small chuckle left the Prince’s lips as he nodded.

“I guess you did.”

“Do I get a reward of any kind?”

“How would you feel about a tour of the palace? No tricks or anything like that, just me showing you the beauty of Rohan. What do you say?” He asked, already holding out his elbow for her to take. Kitra stared at his elbow, then at him.

“No tricks?” She repeated cautiously, earning a nod from him.

“No tricks,” he concluded sincerely. That’s what made her smile and hook her hand around the crease of his elbow. He helped her stand and then led her out of the loud and rambunctious room. This certainly hadn’t been what she’d been expecting when she said yes to going to Helm’s Deep with the other healers, but she couldn’t say she didn’t like it. Things would certainly get interesting from there.

[regulus-cannot-swim]

Eomer Masterlist

Dancing in the rain - fluff

[avastrasposts]

A little Éomer fluff to comfort your day

Edit: just to note, this fic is not finished unfortunately. I ran out of steam a while back and I don't know if I'll get round to completing it.

Although I enjoy writing smut it is fun to play around with fluff and who better to do that with than Éomer? This was originally just a short story but now I have an idea for a shorter, four or five, chapter fic so I'm letting it expand. Switching between writing Billy Butcher's crude language with a rough cockney accent and Éomer's well mannered old fashioned tones is challenging but fun! Still can't believe the same (amazing) actor play both these roles.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Blessing - Eomer X Fem!Reader

Oneshot, word count: 4,4045 Summary: Loving a Lord of the Riddemark comes with its fair share of trade-offs. Even more so when you're riding into battle right next to him. Warnings: steam (mutual bathing, nudity, kissing, heavy petting if you squint), canon-typical violence, some playing with the timeline,

You unsheathed your sword in one swift, strong movement, the grating sound of steel on steel as the blade scraped against its scabbard. Your horse, Túrion, reared up on his hind legs as Saruman’s Warg-riders charged across the empty plain in front of you. You had only moments before their forces would smash against your company’s line. Turning back to face your comrades, you lifted your sword high into the cold, early dawn air. 

“For King, for country, for your families and homes!” You shouted as loudly as you could manage, hoping your voice carried over the sound of whinnying horses nervous for battle and the growing roar of the Wargs. The faces of the six dozen female warriors at your command – your swordsisters - broke into a unified scream. The battle cry echoed across the dusky plain, and you noted with a grimly satisfied smile that some of the foe balked at the sound. 

Túrion pulled sharply at the bit in his mouth, signaling to you his anxiousness for battle. You felt the same frenzied energy; it had been ricocheting through your bones ever since King Theoden had given you his begrudging permission to mount up and join the rest of the Rohirrim in guarding the citizens of Edoras as they made the dangerous march to the mountain keep at Helm’s Deep. Your nerves came partially from the knowledge that this was the only change you and your swordsisters had of proving your mettle to the rest of Rohan, and partially from knowing that, although you had the king’s blessing to fight, you distinctly did not have the blessing of his heir and your lover, Eomer. 

As another bloodthirsty cry erupted from the lines of mounted soldiers behind you, you gave Túrion his head, kicking him into a gallop as you thrust your blade high and forward, signaling the charge. 

“For Middle Earth!” The riders behind you echoed your call to arms as the company leapt to action. 

The sound of hundreds of hooves pounding into the frostbitten ground roared to life as your unit charged forward to meet the oncoming Warg-riders. Your mind slipped into a red haze of battle-fueled fury as your sword sliced through its first victim, then its next, and so on, until you and your sword were one and the same. 

* * * * *

The sun was high in the sky by the time you re-sheathed your sword. The muscles of your sword-arm shoulder screamed in relief as you let go of the weight of your blade. You swung down off Túrion’s saddle, examining your stallion’s wounds. Most were superficial cuts, but there was a deep gash cut into the meat of his left flank. Dark crimson blood stained his grey speckled coat, and he whinnied in protest as you gently prodded the rough edges of the wound. It would require cleaning and sewing, you decided, which meant you wouldn’t ride him for a few weeks while it healed. 

“My brave, brave boy,” you cooed at him tenderly as you moved to the front of his body, stroking his sweaty neck sweetly. You saw his eyes soften at the sound of your voice. You let your forehead fall forward to connect to his snout. He chuffed at you lovingly, rubbing his nose on you as if to reassure you he was alright. Túrion had been your horse for almost ten years, and he’d joined you in every battle you’d fought in so far. 

“It seems your horse fared better than you, my lady.” The voice behind you was reproachful but laced with relief. You smiled, ignoring the admonishment in Eomer’s words as you turned to face him. 

“Eomer,” you sighed dreamily, your voice misty with exhaustion as you let him envelop you with his arms. The layers of armor and chain mail and fighting leather between you left you unhappily separate from his reassuring warmth, but the knowledge that he – like you – had survived the Warg attack made you weak in the knees with joy. 

“You’re hurt, Y/n,” he mumbled gruffly against your hair as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. 

You pulled back from him, puzzled. You hadn’t noticed any injuries during the battle, although it was very possible that adrenaline had dulled your awareness. 

“I am?” you replied in bewilderment. You lifted your arms gingerly, trying to feel for the injury more than look for it. There was an appalling amount of blood and sinew and entrails staining your armor; all of it from your enemies, you’d assumed, although Eomer seemed to disagree. 

“Your head,” he said by way of clarification. His expression was pained as he touched the side of your face up towards your right temple. Although his pressure was gentle, you noted a tenderness at his touch, and his fingertips were tacky with half-dried blood when he withdrew his hand. Your mind idly flicked through the memories of the battle, trying to identify when you’d been injured. You knew some of the Warg-riders dipped their blades in poison – usually the officers – and if the injury had come from one of them, you’d need to see an apothecary for the herbal antidote. You had a vague recollection of your helmet being knocked from your head by an errant arrow. As you tried to piece the memory together, you realized that the arrow must have sideswiped your skull, leaving a shallow albeit bloody gash there. 

“I’m fine, it was an arrow,” you sighed in relief as you gently ran your hand along the cut. It was narrow and straight – most certainly the work of an arrow rather than a blade. You saw Eomer’s shoulders visibly relax; his mind must have raced to the possibility of poison just as yours had. 

“Thank the Gods,” he breathed out, cupping your cheeks in both his hands as your foreheads connected. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you enjoyed the sound of his breathing syncing with yours. The sounds of the fading battle and dismounting riders around you faded into the back of your awareness as you let Eomer’s presence wash over you. 

When you finally drew back to meet his gaze, you saw the anger that he’d tamped down just long enough to ensure you’re safety flare to life in his honey-brown eyes. 

“What in the devil are you playing at, exactly?” he snarled accusatorily. You had to suppress a chuckle at his rage. He was the bravest man you knew, like one of the royal knights of old out of a children’s fairytale, but when it came down to you, his protective anger reminded you of an hissing, spitting kitten. You wanted nothing more than to pepper him with kisses and have him walk you to a nice, warm bath, although you knew that your doting affection would only enrage him further.

In an attempt to hide your smile, you turned back to Túrion, undoing his breast collar and easing the saddle off his back. 

“Whatever do you mean, my Lord?” Try as you might, you couldn’t quite extinguish the note of teasing in your sarcastic question. Eomer’s nostrils flared in response. He grabbed your upper arm, pulling you about to face him. His eyes were simmering, his handsome lips pursed so tightly they were white against his sun-tanned skin.

“You rode into battle knowing you didn’t have my blessing,” Eomer growled. He released your arm as a few of his men walked past, eyeing the two of you surreptitiously with sidelong glances. Your romance with Eomer was no longer a secret, although both of you tried to keep your personal affairs separate from your roles in Rohan’s military. 

“I had the King’s blessing,” you snapped back once his men were out of earshot. “Last I checked, the King’s blessing still outweighed yours, Lord of the Mark.” Using Túrion’s saddle as a buffer, you brushed past him, leading your horse by the bridle towards the line of soldiers pulling back from the corpse-riddled battlefield towards the shadowy mountains off the west, where the safety of Helm’s Deep thick stone walls awaited. You could practically feel the heat from Eomer’s gaze boring into the back of your head as you walked away. 

Let him burn himself out, you told yourself as part of your instincts yearned to turn back and make peace. You knew Eomer’s anger came from a place of protectiveness, and you loved him for his devotion. By the same token, you also wanted him to realize that a warrior’s blood pulsed through your veins. It wasn’t your fate to be a lady of Rohan’s court, waving embroidered handkerchiefs at him as he rode off into a glorious death in battle. Your fate was to ride out next to him and meet your enemies standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Like him, you would lay down your life to protect those you loved. You’d never dream of taking that away from him; and you expected him to give you the same latitude in return. 

Holding your chin high, you let your feet carry you away from him, eventually getting lost in the crowd. You’d be lying if you said your pride wasn’t a bit wounded that he didn’t chase you down, but he didn’t. Eomer was far too proud for that.

* * * * *

It wasn’t until nightfall that you reached Helm’s Deep. The adrenaline of battle had long worn off by then, and you were beginning to feel every bump and bruise covering your body. Based on the scattered reports you’d picked up on from the other unit commanders, you knew that the battle was far from over. Saruman’s main force was marching towards Helm’s Deep as you spoke. The Warg-riders had been little but a scouting force. You only hoped to have enough time to eat and, if the Gods were merciful, rest. 

Once you’d seen Túrion to the stables and tasked a stable hand with patching up his wound, you made your way towards the main hall of the keep. Theoden’s court had assembled there, and he’d ordered all of his unit commanders to adjourn there for a hot meal and battle strategy. Thankfully, your company had lost relatively few of its number, while others had sustained heavy losses. Despite the bone-deep fatigue that pulled at your eyelids, you forced yourself to stay keen to the king’s brief on his strategy for the coming conflict. Given that your company was still majority intact, you suspected that you’d be part of the castle’s main defensive force along the lower ramparts. 

It wasn’t purely exhaustion that threatened to pull your focus elsewhere; from across the dimly lit hall, you could see Eomer at his usual place to the king’s immediate left. His expression was somber, and you doubted that anyone noticed the slight groove between his eyebrows that betrayed his inner turmoil. But you knew his face the same way you knew the feel of breath in your lungs. You’d be able to feel his emotions in the dark. 

After the king dismissed the company leaders under strict instructions to rest as much as possible, you felt your feet automatically lead you up towards the head table where Theoden, Gamling, and Eomer sat together, their heads bowed as they continued to talk of strategy. Noticing your approach, Theoden smiled at you warmly and waved his nephew off.

Eomer protested his uncle’s dismissal, partially out of a sense of duty and partially to spite you, but Theoden would hear none of it. “Soldiers are never guaranteed another sunset, Eomer,” he chided his nephew sternly but not unkindly. “Don’t waste this one mulling over the details of tomorrow’s doom. Go. Be with your heart.” 

Theoden’s words touched you, and you bowed your head gratefully at him as Eomer rose with a sullen pout. As you turned to follow a very surly Eomer out of the hall, you swore you saw Theoden shoot you a conspiratorial wink. 

The walk to Eomer’s chambers was quiet, although not tense. There was an understanding between you two: despite your quarrel, both of you expected to spend the evening together. And although there were differences of opinion, you knew that you were secure in his affections, just as he knew the same of you. You and Eomer had been doing this dance for too long to let something so petty drive a wedge between you, especially on a night like tonight. You weren’t sure if it was your imagination, but at times you swore you felt the faintest tremor in the mountain that Helm’s Deep was cut into, a foreshadow of the unimaginable force marching your way. Theoden’s scouts had reported an army as large as ten thousand strong, pouring out of Isengard’s gates. The very notion of ten thousand was almost beyond your imaginings, and it pierced your heart with an unmuted terror. You knew Eomer felt it too - everyone did. 

Perhaps it was that shared terror that kept both of you silent as you entered Eomer’s chambers. He closed the door behind you softly, dismissing the guard who stood watch by the doorway. You’d only been to Helm’s Deep once before, but the chamber was exactly as you remembered. The court servants who had fled Edoras with the rest of the nobility had brought with them precious few luxuries, but among them were a pile of freshly laid towels, a bar of soap, and an array of candles spread throughout the room. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw steam rising from the simple, porcelain tub in the corner of the room. A warm bath was exactly what you needed right now. Sweat and dried blood from the morning’s battle had dried on your skin and in your hair. You weren’t a particularly vain person - your lifestyle hadn’t afforded you such luxuries - but you were not above enjoying a thorough soak and a soft bed to lay your head on at night. 

Without sharing a word, you and Eomer began removing your armor. Unlike earlier, where his anger hung around him like a stormcloud, his mood now moved in the direction of contemplative. You felt his gaze on your face as you lifted the heavy chainmail tunic you wore under your leather armor over your head. With the weight of your armor removed, your limbs felt loose and light. As you swung your dirty braid over one shoulder and began undoing the plaits, Eomer finally broke the silence. 

“I never get tired of seeing you like this, you know.” HIs voice was softer than you expected, and it caused your breath to snag in your chest. You lifted your eyes to him as you shook out the roots of your hair. His face was streaked with dirt from the fight, and there was a dark blue bruise that you hadn’t noticed earlier blooming under one eye. But beneath the grime and his week-old stubble, you saw a soft smile gracing his lips and a gentle light in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Like what, my lord?” you replied teasingly as you unlaced the bottom layer of your armor - a heavy tunic made of quilted wool. The chill damp of the air felt delicious against your bare skin. You didn’t relish the idea of re-donning everything in just a few hours, especially given that you wouldn’t have time to wash the tunic or clean the plated armor, but for the moment it felt incredible to be rid of those putrid, heavy layers. 

“Undressed, in my chambers.” Eomer’s reply was somewhat muffled by the hem of his own tunic, which had snagged around his head while he was undressing. You laughed at the sight of the Lord of the Riddemark, future King of Rohan, half-naked with a dirty tunic wrapped around his neck. You stepped over to him and helped untie a few more laces at the neck of the tunic, easing his head through the opening and freeing him from the confines of the tunic at last. 

“Such language in front of a lady,” you replied mirthfully as Eomer gestured towards the tub. You accepted his invitation gratefully, stepping one foot into the warm water and then another. The bathwater turned grimy as you let your body sink beneath the surface of the bathwater, dipping your head back to wet your hair. 

From outside the tub, Eomer grabbed the bar of soap and wetted it before running it over your hair to form a lather. When he began rubbing your scalp with firm fingers, you let out an audible moan as you let your head lean back against the edge of the bath. 

He chuckled as you gave yourself over to the incredible sensation.

“I see no lady here,” he replied after a moment, earning a playful glare from you and a splash of bathwater in his direction. He dodged the blow easily, letting out a laugh of his own. 

“Your manners need work, my lord.” Your retort had little bite to it; you were too mesmerized by the patterns Eomer’s fingers wove against your scalp. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you let relaxation seep into every fiber of your body.

“No lady,” he continued, bending down until his beard tickled your ear. “Only a woman. My woman.” Your toes curled under the surface of the water as he dragged those last two words over the gravel in his voice. Sensing he’d plucked the right chord, Eomer chuckled proudly as he planted a kiss to the soft skin in front of your ear. You reached up to grab his hair and pull him to your lips, but he’d already withdrawn. Your eyes opened just in time to see him sink into the bath next to you, the water level rising dangerously close to the lip of the tub. Like you, he grunted in appreciation as the warmth of the water began to work out the kinks in his tired muscles. 

You allowed him to settle against the far edge of the bath before you moved towards him. He opened his arms in a well-rehearsed move, allowing you to settle between his strong thighs and lean back against his firm torso before wrapping you with his arms. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, his cheek coming to rest on your freshly rinsed hair. This was not the first time you had shared such intimacy with your lover; far from it, in fact. But, much like he had pointed out earlier, there was no dulling of affection between you two. Instead, you felt your feelings for him deepen with each passing day. 

As the two of you sat together in the cooling water, you traced absentminded circles over his forearm. Your gaze landed on the dancing flame of a nearby candle as you let your mind wander into a space just shy of sleep. You felt Eomer’s breath deepen against your back as he too relaxed into the quiet. 

After several minutes of companionable silence, you squeezed his arm to rouse him from his reverie.

“Do I have your blessing for the battle ahead, my lord?” Although you used the same playful tone you’d employed moments prior, the question was a serious one. You felt Eomer tense ever so slightly behind you as he considered his response. 

Sensing his hesitation, you pressed on.

“You know I will fight tomorrow, with or without it.” Eomer tensed further at your callous words, although both of you knew they were true. You let your tone soften as you added, “although I would feel all the better for it if I had your blessing.” 

He let out a soft sigh, shaking his head slightly. 

“Whatever did I do to find myself in love with a woman such as yourself?” Each of his words was drenched in devotion, and the sound of it made you curl against him as he squeezed you tightly. It wasn’t a direct answer, but you understood his meaning. His blessing wasn’t something to give or take away; you always had it. Eomer had known what you were long before he’d fallen into your bed, and you’d been certain not to soften those parts of yourself that found a home in battle just for his sake. 

“You are truly one of the lucky few,” you cooed back, relishing the sensation of him nuzzling down against the skin where your neck and shoulder connected. You reached a hand up behind you, lightly gripping the back of his head and encouraging him to let it hang gently against yours. He obliged, sighing contentedly as you began twirling strands of his hair around your fingers. 

“I swear to the Gods, y/n, sometimes I don’t know if you’re my salvation or my downfall.” His confession came with a distinct note of pain. You knew that pain well: it was the pain of loving a warrior. The pain of having to say a potential goodbye each time they rode into battle. The pain of subsuming the urge to protect him at any and every cost under the need to follow orders. It was the pain of frantically searching for an all-too familiar face amongst the bodies of the dead on a battlefield. It was a unique kind of pain, and one that both of you had known you’d always live with when you’d allowed yourselves to fall in love. 

You ignored the way the bathwater sloshed over the edge of the tub as you turned to face him. His eyes were misty as you cupped his handsome face in your hands, running your thumbs tenderly along his cheekbones. 

“Eomer… my love…” Before you could finish your thought, he pulled you against him, his lips meeting yours greedily. In an instant, you recognized the intention behind his kiss. A knot of desire began to coil in your stomach as your fingers tangled in his hair. He pressed his kiss down into your mouth harder, and you felt the mingling of fear, pride, devotion, and love in behind that pressure. Your chest bloomed with heat as the kiss deepened. Suddenly, Eomer rose from his seated position and stepped out of the bath, his muscles tensing enticingly with the quick, agile movement. Bending down to lace an arm under your legs and one behind your back, he lifted you quickly from the now tepid, grimy water. He carried you to the bed with a purposeful heat simmering in his eyes, making that knot in your stomach tighten further as butterflies began to take flight in your lungs. He laid you on the soft blanket, his arms coming to frame your shoulders as he settled his body over top yours, caging you in between his flexed biceps. Just before his mouth met yours again, you lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips. He froze, his eyes on you with curiosity and a hint of frustration. 

“Your blessing, Eomer,” you said breathily, trying to tamp down your own impatience. “I want your blessing.” It had never felt important before, but the longer your mind lingered on the battle ahead, the more compelled you felt to hear those words. 

His honey brown eyes danced with delight as you withdrew your finger, allowing him to speak freely. He didn’t hesitate.

“You have it.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“You have my blessing always.” Another kiss at the corner of your mouth. 

“Today.” Your jawline. “Tomorrow.” Your collarbone. “For all of your days.” Your shoulder. “And all of mine.” Back to your lips. 

Your heart seized in your chest as the tenderness of the moment bewitched you. Eomer hovered over you, each of you basking in each other’s gaze for another heartbeat. You saw the tender light in his eyes turn molten just as your own mind turned back to the needs of your body. 

“Now, my lady,” he whispered. “Allow me to show you exactly how much of this lord’s blessing you’ve earned.” He dove down to kiss at the now cleaned skin above your breasts, earning a delighted cry from you as you let your eyes flutter close. 

Somewhere in the darkness covering Rohan, an army ten-thousand strong marched closer; but for that moment, your love chased away the dark…