#eomer simping disease

[celeluwhenfics]

Ok Éomer simps, and horse girlies (gn), I'm editing right now, tell it to me straight: is it Very Bad to compare his eyes to those of a horse?

Like: blah blah, she's admiring "his eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes, now blazing fierce, now calm and kind like those of his gentlest colt."

It's bad, right? 🤔

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.

[sotwk]

Only slightly majorly obsessed with Eomer's outfit that he wore to King Elessar's coronation. Especially that cape! So regal! <3 I love Rohanese fabric designs, I gotta say. And with Karl Urban as the model, you just can't lose.

[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.)

[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]

[sotwk]

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

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

This. This is the gif. Please send help.

[frodothefair]

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

[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 1. Into the Very Fire

Éomer. Éomer.

Rowena’s heart rang with the name at every step of her weary mare. The crunch of chips of ice underfoot mingled with the tinkling of cattle bells and the clinking of chain mail. Muddy water spurted over the wilted grass around hooves and boots, pooling in the footprints behind. Sulking merchants and shepherds trudged silently in the cold sludge. Only the guards escorting the caravan, in turns riding ahead to look over ridges or knolls, exchanged a few words signaling that the way seemed safe.

Rowena sat half dreaming, looking down along Mjuka’s shoulder, past the puffs of mist rolling from her nostrils. For long hours since the morning, she had watched her hoof break ice, crush grass and splash mud.

Éomer.

Two days before, when they had started upon the grassy path that stretches south out of Glamsbjerg and joins in Grimslade the great road east along the lower slopes of the White Mountains, the travelers had exchanged songs to lift hearts and stories to stir laughter. But on this third day on the road, after uneasy nights in the damp and freezing camps, songs and laughter had turned scarce.

Rowena ached from the long, slow journey in the saddle, for she had not often left Glamsbjerg in the two years since her family had withdrawn there. Rare had been the occasions for a leisurely ride; she had shared old Mjuka with her mother and sister after misfortune had forced them to part with their best horses.

Folcred’s passing the month before had deepened their sorrow beyond measure, but the modest purse they had gotten from selling his war horse and his armour had granted them the means to pay their most pressing debts. They still had enough left to purchase warm clothes for all three, wood to keep their hearth burning for the rest of the winter, and they had bought another small, hardy mare. Her mother had then managed to part with the trusted Mjuka for her journey to Edoras, however long her stay there might be. But the beautiful, spirited mare she had reared, trained and ridden as a young girl was lost forever.

She steered her mind away from bitter recollections of the happy, careless days of her youth, from before she had known loss, disgrace, and privation. She curled her numb fingers in the scruffy short mane, saying a prayer in gratitude for her humble companion.

Éomer. Éomer. Éomer.

Read more on AO3

Taglist (I've included people who have shown interest on previous posts, let me know if you want to be added, removed, multiplicated, divided, notified only when the fic is done, etc) @emmanuellececchi @errruvande @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @erathene @mithrandirl @dreambigdreamz

[sotwk]

I'm starting to find and draw in more and more Eomer fans in my notes and followers and I'm both thrilled and awed and a little frightened (cause now I need to make good on all my Eomer WIPs; I'm really trying, guys!). But also this should be no surprise. EOMER IS AS GLORIOUS AS THE SUN.

I really am just stoked that there are so many of us who adore him, after all.