#eomer simping disease

[celeluwhenfics]

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

The cuteness??!??

We've got:

-Gimli half-naked

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

-Gandalf smiling

-and ÉOMER LAUGHING?????

Excuse me while I go swoooooooon

[tvertimot]

Éomer x OC - Deep down chapter 8

TW: mild se*ual suggestion but i hope no one here minds it ;)

Chapter 7 | Masterlist

It has been over a month since the legation has come back to Edoras with the good news.

The whole court was working at high speed ever since - they were getting ready for the royal wedding, the related trip, as it was to take place outside of the royal city and above all for the reception of the new queen and her retinue. 

Rohan, who was still getting back to its shape after years of crisis and war, has long waited for a queen.

Éomer was lying in a bathtub next to the fireplace in his chamber. He tried to soak out the blood and dirt. He just got back from hunting - a quite successful one. He managed to shoot a mighty deer and a few foxes. From the latter he planned to have a beautiful fur made for his future bride - she will  definitely appreciate it once the rohanian winter comes.

He closed his eyes and drifted away into an intoxicating mist of memories and dreams. He recalled the first time he saw Lady Nartíhl at the coronation of King Elessar.

He saw her from a distance during the ceremony and he couldn’t turn his eyes away for the whole night. From her long locks shining in the sunlight as if they were made of a precious metal. From her delicate, symmetrical face and piercing eyes. From her gracious posture, the way she moved - Éomer almost saw flower petals floating from her lilac robe every time she moved. And however the young king was ashamed to admit - he could not look away from her round hips and breasts. The more he tried to ignore this, the more he caught himself glancing in her direction and noticing how beautifully her robe was coating her. Later during the celebration he saw her dancing with other men. Her moves were elegant and hypnotizing, but no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on other details the most of his attention was brought to her cleavage bouncing with her every jump. Later on, he managed to get a closer look at her when he had a few words with her father. 

They met during the Great War. Lord Idhoril led a very brave and skillful troop. 

They exchanged some pleasantries and made some typical military-related small talk, as you would on such occasion. Throughout the  whole conversion Éomer felt a pair of eyes stinging him from behind lord Idhoril‘s back. 

-I’m happy I was able to talk to you, Lord Idhoril, but it seems like my sister is trying to get my attention - Éomer pointed over to Éowyn waving to him on the other side of the hall. - I hope we will have a chance to speak again soon. 

He smiled and nodded his head, the older Lord mimicking this movement. 

Éomer took a step closer to Nartíhl. 

-I hope we did not bore you with the political talk, dear Lady.

He held out his hand, to which she responded placing her palm in his. 

He kissed her hand gently and looked her straight in the eyes, thinking to himself: don’t look down, don’t look down!

-Not at all, my lord. It was both an honour and a pleasure to meet you. 

Mhm this was a very nice memory. It warmed him up enough to not notice the water in the bathtub almost getting cold. He repeated her words in his head. 

-It was both an honour and a pleasure to meet you. 

Oh, a pleasure. He was about to give her pleasure, if only she would let him. 

He felt the arousal building up inside of him. He knew he was dreaming more of a fantasy than the real girl but he did not care. She was about to be his either way.

Just as he was considering following his desires, letting himself go into the fantasies and releasing a bit of this tension growing inside of him he was brought to reality by a knock  on the door. He shook his head and adjusted his position to sit more straight in the tub.

-Enter.

It was one of his servants, holding a letter. 

-Sorry to interrupt, my lord, but a  letter from lady Éowyn has arrived, I am providing it right away just as ordered.

He approached Éomer, bowed his head down trying not to stare at the naked king in front of him and handed the letter over.

-Yes, thank you. 

The king took the letter and startet to open it when he noticed the boy was still standing next to the bathtub. 

-You may go. - he said, slightly annoyed. What a man got to do these days to get properly trained servants! He shook his head and proceeded to read the letter,

Dear Brother, 

I have never been this happy for you as I am now. Please accept my and my husband's sincere congratulation on this amazing news.

However. I know you better than anyone. 

The next time we see eachother I expect a full story! 

All hail king Éomer. 

Love, 

Éowyn (Faramir sends his regards as well).

She knew him so well. She has seen right through him. As he expected. 

But it was ok. The next time they were to see each other was on the lands belonging to his future bride. Right before their wedding. 

Chapter 9

***

If you enjoyed the story please like/reblog <3

TAGLIST: @konartiste @emmanuellececchi

[frodothefair]

Ok but… Éomer as a father of girls.

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

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

[sotwk]

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

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

This. This is the gif. Please send help.

[eclecticqueennerd]

Forge of the Heart

*Prologue*

You were sent, along with your older brothers Thor and Loki, to the Council of Elrond on your father, King Odin’s, behalf. While at the Council, you were met with odd stares, especially by the men of Gondor. You took the interaction as one of curiosity, not many have seen an Asgardian, let alone an Asgardian woman. That was until you heard whispers of how a woman was accepted into the discussion chambers and how it may ‘scar your fragile mind”. Before you could speak out on your behalf, Aragorn, a Ranger you had met a handful of times in your travels, spoke,

“That is y/n Odinsdottir. She deserves respect as much as you would show her kin.” You turn your head to Aragorn and give him a nod, he nods back. You take your seat and wait for the meeting to begin. Elrond took his seat and started the meeting. It was about a matter of great importance, what to do with the One Ring. Many shared their opinions, a few of which came from your eldest brother Thor.

“I agree with you Thor Odinson. The ring must be destroyed.” Elrond proclaimed. You looked around the chamber, collections of elves, dwarves, and men all looked around at each other undecided about what to do next. Suddenly, a dwarf with auburn hair and beads in his beard leaps up out of his seat and reaches for his battle axe.

“Then what are we waiting for?” The dwarf, you’d come to know later as Gimli, wields his axe above his head and drives it onto the pedestal on which the ring lay. His weapon shatters as he himself goes flying backward. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the young hobbit, Frodo, keel over and grasp his head.

“The ring cannot be destroyed Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess. The ring was forged in the fires of Mount Doom, only there it can be unmade.” Elrond spoke eloquently. An uproar began in the chamber of who would be the one to take the ring to Mordor. Men, you thought as you rolled your eyes, they always bicker and never come to a resolution. Even your brother Thor joined in on the squabble while you and Loki watched.

“I will take it!” a small voice echoed out. Everyone in the chamber continued quarreling but it caught your attention. The voice became louder as the one who spoke stood up and approached Elrond’s chair. “I will take the ring to Mordor!” Frodo. Those around quieted down and began staring at the halfling. “Though, I do not know the way.” Then, one by one members of the council offered their services to escort the hobbit to his destination. Your brothers, Thor and Loki, watched as the brave members stood in an assembly line next to the halfling while you were waiting for one of your kin to offer their support. But it never came. Fed up with the lack of incentive to help, you stood up from your chair and approached Frodo,

“I will serve you as best I can Master Baggins.” Standing next to the wizard named Gandalf, you glanced and saw Thors eyes, he was displeased.

“Oi! We’re coming too!” Two more hobbits came out from behind the pillars of the chamber. Merry and Pippin were their names.

“Besides you need someone of intelligence on this sort of mission… quest… thing!” You snickered quietly.

“Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

*

“Sister, do you understand the gravity of the mission you have signed up for?” Thor's voice boomed through the stone halls as the three of you went to your assigned shared bed chambers.

“I understand there are risks brother.” You sigh, readying your belongings for travel.

“Then perhaps you should rethink this. Come back home instead.”

“And break my vow to Frodo? My honor will not allow it! Besides, neither of you offered your aid, someone from Asgard had to represent.”

“Father will be furious. He told us to only observe.”

“Really Thor, must you always do what Father tells you?”

“As the eldest and next in line for the throne, yes I will do what our king tells us.”

“Even when it’s against your beliefs?” You face your brother, hands on your hips giving him a defiant stare. Loki chortles as he watches from the sidelines. When it came to personality, you were a mix of the two brothers. You are loyal to those you care about, headstrong, and always up for creating mischief. Being the youngest of King Odin's three children, your brothers always teased you were father's favorite and claimed you got away with a lot. Thor, married to Lady Jane, next in line for the throne, had to uphold the responsibility that came with that title. Loki married his longtime friend, Sylvie, you’d swear they were the same person with how similar in personality they were. You? You either declined or ran off every suitor that came calling. Your mother and Queen, Frigga, always badgering you about making your debut in high Asgardian society, you were repulsed by the idea. You would not be caught dead with any pompous dukes that could not spar worth a damn. Nor would you change for any man, they would either accept you for who you were or they were sent packing.

“Brother, you know as well as I we cannot change y/n’s mind. She is as stubborn as a mule. We’ve had our fill of adventures and glory, it’s time y/n to have hers as well.” Loki finally speaks, and he sets his hand on your shoulder. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. Promise me you’ll send a raven if you need help.” You smile at the second eldest and out of the corner of your eye, Thor shakes his head. You place your hands on both of his shoulders and say,

“Thor, I know you care. We’ve dueled countless times and you’ve said yourself that you pity the fool who crosses my path. Brunnehilde ensured that she personally trained me to be the best I could be before we left. Behind all the fury in your eyes, I see that you are scared. You have nothing to fear. I can do this.” Thor shifts his feet back and forth and then scoffs after a moment of silence.

“I do not get scared.” A smile spreads on his face and he grips you into a fierce hug, you hug him back with as much strength. While the three of you don’t always see eye to eye, there is no doubt that your brothers love you, and you them.

[kylobith]

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

[dreambigdreamz]

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

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

[psychomorphary]

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

He's transmasc and colorblind and hot

Change my mind

[frodothefair]

So I really like the first image. He's like, "I am going to carry a saddle and be passive aggressive and have opinions."

I really feel that the saddle adds something to the scene.

When I shared this with Mr. Nisilë, he said, "yeah, it's like a guy grumbling while parking a car."

Karl Urban as Eomer THE LORD OF THE RINGS: The Return of the King (2003) dir. Peter Jackson

[celeluwhenfics]

Super happy to say that I seem to have successfully developped a passage that was previously outlined with the mere five words "She thinks: FUCK HE'S HOT" into a full 600 words of acceptable, expletive-free English prose.

ETA: The passage is now out in chapter 2 of pHORSEuasion!

[tvertimot]

Éomer x OC - Deep down chapter 9

Chapter 8 | Masterlist

Nartíhl liked horseback riding but only if it was for fun. The minute she had to get somewhere far on a horse she hated every minute of it. Even though riding a carriage could get uncomfortable, she preferred it much for the longer distances. But her father insisted that they should ride all the way to the fortress on the horses’ back - it was easier, quicker and after all she was about to be crowned queen of the horse masters. 

She was riding to the land she owned, it was supposed to be her safe place and home, at least that’s how she felt until now. She felt as if she was a pig being transferred to a butcher’s place. Or a lamb that was to be sacrificed. 

Her mind was jumping between the memories of the last moments with her love and a very brief memoirs of meeting her future husband. 

One moment she recalled with every detail how she was lying on a flowery meadow with Bronandîr - sun highlighting his grey eyes looking at her with deep love.  -I will worship you until the end of the world and one day longer. 

Her heart filled with warmth. She felt loved. She felt wanted.

No, stop it! She scolded herself. You are to marry another man! You need to forget. Or at least try. 

But how was she to forget all the nights spent in his embrace? All the smiles and kisses. All the whispers, dreams and promises. 

No! She needed to forget them. It would make this easier. 

But she knew this could never be easy. Neither forgetting the men she loved, nor trying to love the men she only met once.

She tried hard to recall that one time. The coronation of the king Elesar. She did not pay much attention to the king of Rohan. She was mostly focused on the beautiful decoration inside the great hall of Minas Tirith, she was thinking about the jokes and gossip she wanted to tell her cousins and about with whom she was yet to dance. 

While her father was talking to king Éomer, she hid behind lord Idhoril. 

She was always afraid of the Rohirrims. She knew the simple folk tales were usually exaggerated and as an educated woman she should not believe them, but all the gossip and legends still had an impact on her impression of them. She felt intimidated. The man was tall, seemed strong and dangerous. She could not say he was ugly but he was different to most men she knew.  

Even though he knew the etiquette and how to behave on a social occasion she felt there was something ribald about him. On her way out the ball she passed the table where the king of Rohan sat with his people. She caught him laughing loudly at a very inappropriate joke one of his soldiers made and just a moment later he looked her straight in the eye and nodded slightly with a smirk on his face. What an impudence.

***

Éomer arrived to the place of their wedding a day before his bride. On the same day his sister and her husband have reached the destination. 

The young king was currently sitting in the window recess bench of the room he was assigned, looking at the dowry lands of his future wife. It was so much different from his land. The landscape was hilly but still so very green. Far away you could see the pale outline of the seashore. The mansion was also much different from his home. Will she like it there? What will she think of the Meduseld? 

He took a sip of his drink and leaned his head against the wall. There was no use in worrying about this now, he said to himself. 

Just a minute later he heard footsteps on the corridor and well known voices. His sister was here. 

He was on his feet, moving toward the door before they even got the chance to knock. 

He opened them, taking the guests by surprise - Faramir’s fist was in the air getting ready to knock, while Éowyn was trying to smoothen his clothes, probably rumpled in the travel cuffer. 

They both looked awkwardly at Éomer who just stared at them with amusement. Faramir straightened himself, his wife soon followed him with a chuckle.  -Well, will you let us in, brother, or do you wish to host us in the corridor?

Éomer only smiled widely at that and embraced his sister in a big hug. -I missed you too, sister. 

Faramir took this occasion to sneak into the chamber. 

Once they were all sat by the fireplace, each of them with a drink in hand, Éowyn decided it was time to end this courtesy of small talk and get to the real talk.  -I want to know EVERYTHING! 

-Well, I think you know all there is to know. I’m not sure what exactly you would like me to tell you.

Éomer shrugged and took a sip of his ale to which Faramir nodded pensively but it all just made Éowyn growl with frustration. -I know NOTHING, brother. Where did this decision come from? How did you met? Did you ask her to marry you yourself? I want to know all the details.

-Of course I did not ask her myself, I’ve only spoken to her once, on Aragorn’s coronation. 

-Hmmm. - Éowyn seemed to be taken aback by this statement. 

-Then where does it all come from? If you only spoke to her once, and from what I managed to see it was not a long nor very engaging conversation. I won’t believe it if you tell me you suddenly started to listen to your council's political advice - she gave her brother an investigating look. 

-I do listen to my council's advice. If they are wise.

-Do you mean if they fall in line with what you're already thinking? - Faramir finally decided to step into the conversation.

-As I said - if they are wise. - Éomer grinned. - But this was actually my idea that my council supported. I can’t believe you have such a bad opinion on me. This is a very good strategic move for both parties and it’s an effect of a mutual agreement. 

Éomer took one more sip of his drink and grabbed a handful of local dried fruit that was lying on a plate in front of them.

Éowyn looked like there were a hundred things on her mind that she wanted to scream out but still not a single word was able to reach her tongue. 

Faramir however seemed very amused.  -So are you trying to tell us that it is not just you being guided by your…

He hesitated with his words and raised his eyebrows. - FARAMIR! - Éowyn scolded her husband and lightly smacked his knee, but both men just chuckled at this remark. 

-Well, I cannot deny that seeing her dancing was in fact very... convincing - Éomer raised his right eyebrow. 

This statement made Éowyn grimace with a mixture of confusion and irritation which made both her husband and brother burst into laughter, more from her reaction than the inappropriate comments. 

-Oh would you two grow up! You act like a pair of youngsters. You are getting married, this is serious Éomer.

At this point the young king had to wipe a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. -My love, do not worry. A bit of laughter never hurt anybody. Besides I believe the future queen will bring enough seriousness with her. Have you seen how she was dressed?

They did all in fact saw how she was dressed when she arrived earlier today. Éomer saw that from the window of his chamber. 

Firstly it looked like dark, stormy clouds approaching them. But slowly the clouds revealed themselves to be an impressive cortege. 

They entered the gate, each horse more beautiful than the previous one, each of the armours and harnesses was a piece of art but Éomer knew straight away to whom he ought to pay his attention. 

Right after the first lines of the guards and the first pennant was the biggest horse ridden by lord Idhoril and right behind him lady Nartíhl on a beautiful black mare. Éomer did not see her face but he knew. Dressed in a long, floating dress, her head covered in a dark veil. From far away it looked black but when the sun glimpsed on her, one could notice that her dress was in fact in a deep purple hue. Just like the pennant before her - a red serpent on a purple background.  -If I did not know there was a wedding to happen in a few days I would say she was mourning - the Gondorian continued his mockery.  -Faramir! -What?! -Now you are really pushing it too far. You know well that it’s her hereditary colors. I’m sure she is just as happy as we are. Éowyn gave a warm and reassuring smile to her brother but he only managed to force himself to respond with a doubtful grimace that was supposed to resemble a smile. His previous good mood was fading away. He felt panic rising inside of him, afraid he would get exposed and judged. He was saved by a knock on the door. Chapter 10 soon

***

I hope you enjoyed. I feel a need to share that in order to get this chapter to a publishable form I had to decipher my notes that I made when I was drunk and trust me - it was a challenge! But I hope I managed ;)

TAGLIST @emmanuellececchi @konartiste

[frodothefair]

Frodo and Eomer for the character bingo, please!

Éomer 👑

*Bastard is used affectionately.

Frodo 💍

[dreambigdreamz]

This is very very beautiful.

But it brought to me a thought.

Centuries later, it will become naturally obscure whether Mithrellas was ever willing to marry Imrazor or if there were other circumstances.

I, as a Tolkien romanticist, like to believe her story was just as beautiful and poignant as the other elven ladies who fell in love with mortals.

But this little point of detail makes up for a sweet headcanon in my mind, that I felt to share with y’all because I haven’t done anything Éothíriel in quite a while.

Imagine Éomer before his wedding to Lothíriel, and they are standing on the shores of Dol Amroth, and he voices his worry honestly that he believes Lothíriel deserves the best and he might not be able to give her that and everyone else probably feels the same way.

Lothíriel replies by holding his hands in her own, saying gently but firmly, “Those who do not know, and those who come after our time, may well speculate on our choices and actions and imagine all sorts of complications when really, it is as simple as the Sun setting to the West, and as sure as another day will dawn again after the Night, that I love you as you love me. And that is all that will matter for us.”

Little might they have known, they would go down through history to be one of the most beloved couple in the fandom 🥰

Yeah, this is probably nonsense, but I just wanted to point out something about outsiders speculating on a love that’s only shared and understood by two people.

I have the honour and happiness to tag: @konartiste !

lesser-known legendarium ladies ✰ mithrellas

Legend holds that MITHRELLAS was a silvan elleth who was traveling with Nimrodel from Lothlórien when she lost her way in the forests of Dor-En-Ernil. It was there that she was discovered by Imrazôr, a prince of the south of Gondor, who supposedly took her as his wife. She thence bore him two children, Galador and Gilmith. Shortly after, she fled from her husband and children, and was never heard from again. From her children came the ruling line of the Princes of Dol Amroth. Over the centuries, the tale of  MITHRELLAS has raised many questions: of her willingness in it, of her ultimate fate, and whether she ever existed at all.

[psychomorphary]

I just realized that I love my long hair so much because it reminds me of the hairstyles in Lord of the Rings. Specifically, my curls and natural hair color (a kind of strawberry blonde or something) remind me of the hair of Rohan.

This gives me intense gender euphoria, especially since I'm about to start T. Hopefully, I'll look more like Eomer or something once the changes start. That would be the ultimate gender transition and euphoria.

[celeluwhenfics]

pHORSEuasion - Chapter 2. The Golden Hall

Rowena was under the table on her hands and knees, reaching between the legs of heavy chairs to dab the spill, when the doors of the hall rolled open. The sudden breeze that rushed in excited the fire in the hearth, which was all she could see from her tight station. This fresh draught come from the plains carried smells of snow, wet grass and leather, but also the essence of something else, something that made her heart bolt. She knew at once: these were his steps; this was his armour clinking; this was the sweep of his cloak on the ground. And this was his voice, his warm, coppery, proud voice. This would be their first encounter since she had tearfully sent him away, nearly five years earlier. A thousand feelings rushed on her, of which this was the most consoling, that it would soon be over. Théoden was agitated by his nephew’s entrance: Rowena could hear him kicking and flailing through Éowyn’s efforts to soothe him. Éomer asked sympathetically after his well-being since his visit in the morning. As Éowyn busied herself around her uncle, who quickly tired out of this new alarm, he inquired about Bréda’s mare and her enjoyment of her ride with Théodred. She gave an enthusiastic and verbose account of the recent antics of her horse, and of the good weather that had delighted them on their promenade. In turn, she asked after Fýrfot’s health. Rowena was glad for the tablecloth that concealed her and afforded her a short moment to harden her nerves. She would have liked to know how he felt as to a meeting. Perhaps indifferent, if indifference could exist under such circumstances. He must have been either indifferent or unwilling. She wondered if he had been informed of her arrival, or if he would have wished to avoid seeing her. As much as she dreaded the encounter, the mortification she would suffer if she were found pitiably hiding to evade it would exceed anything else, and every moment she tarried under the table increased her danger. She could delay no longer; she drew a deep breath and rose to her feet. But all those in attendance, accustomed to the presence of brown-clad servants sliding in and out of shadows and crouching under tables, took no notice of her as she gazed at him, awe-struck.

Read Chapter 2 on AO3

Start at Chapter 1

Cool dividers by @quillofspirit! Thank you!!!