#eomer x reader

[gloomwitchwrites]

Burnt Bread

Éomer x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: fluff, physical & emotional hurt/comfort, family issues, established relationship, alcohol

Word Count: 2.4k

After being left to fend for yourself in your father's bakery, you end up making a massive mistake that earns his ire. Fleeing, you find comfort with the one person who you're utterly safe with.

A/N: Dedicated to @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“I’m leaving. Watch the shop.”

You glance up from the sticky dough beneath your hands and find your father near the door. He sways on his feet slightly as he attempts to tug on his coat. “I’m leaving” is just another way of telling you that he’s off to drink, and by the look and smell of him, he’s already started for the day.

It wasn’t always like this, and it’s only become worse over the years. Following your mother’s death, your father’s reliance on mead has become a crutch, a vessel for his loneliness. It doesn’t matter that you are alive and here for him.

While you don’t entirely resent him for falling into this state, the frequency of it does worry you. Worse, it’s driving a wedge in your relationship with him. He’s becoming distant and detached. His frequent disappearances leave you alone to take care of the shop and everything that goes along with it. It’s not difficult, and you enjoy the work, but when the shop is busy, you can’t always keep an eye on things.

You’re starting to grow tired of this, and you don’t want to feel resentful of your father. You’ve always loved him, even on the days when he comes home stumbling.

“For how long?” you ask flatly, trying not to sound upset that he’s departing yet again. This is the fifth day in a row your father has left the shop in the morning to drink. You fail, a little indignation creeping into your tone.

Your father hears it because he scowls in your direction. “Don’t know,” he mutters, as he teeters toward the door.

There is no final goodbye or backward glance. The shop door slams shut, and tears begin to form in the lower lids of your eyes. Brushing them away with the back of your hand only dusts your cheeks with floor.

This constant distance is tiring.

Putting all your frustration into kneading the dough on the table, a little bit of that steam begins to cool. Once you’ve had enough, and your arms ache, you cut and shape the dough, setting it aside to rise.

The bell above the door rings as the first customer of the day steps inside. And then it begins.

This is why you miss your father in the mornings. Everyone loves seeing your face. They appreciate your kind smile and helpful attitude. Most days, your father is nursing a hangover and keeps to himself, leaving you to take care of everyone that walks in. But without him, you’ll need to do both.

The front of the shop quickly packs with people. You’re so busy taking orders and wrapping bundles of freshly baked bread, that at first you don’t smell the slight hint of char in the air. It’s only when you finish helping a customer that you catch a whiff of it.

The older woman’s nose crinkles in confusion, and while she says nothing, her reaction gives you pause. Inhaling, you consider the scents in the shop, grouping them into different categories. There’s sugar, butter, and—

Your eyes widen, and then you’re rushing to the large stone oven at the back of the shop. “Oh no. No no no no.” Grabbing the large, wood paddle off the wall, you hurriedly scoop up and toss the bread onto the nearby table.

Some are perfectly toasted but others, like the ones closest to the fire, are charcoal. You slide the paddle in and retrieve a loaf that is entirely on fire. In your surprise, the paddle and bread fall to the floor.

They both clatter loudly and you drop to your knees, using your apron to smother the burning bread. The tears fall easily, and the heat from the apron is hot and irritating, but you put it out. You’re so absorbed in trying to salvage what you can, that you don’t realize where the wide part of the paddle is.

Your hand goes out and connects with it. You jump back with a light cry, cradling your palm. The paddle is wood and not metal, which is some comfort, but your left hand is throbbing.

The bell above the door rings, and you glance up, eyes wide and frightened like a deer.

“What is this?” comes the sneering voice.

Your father is back, and you can smell the sourness from here. He half-sways, half-limps around the counter to where you’re kneeling. His pupils are wide, and he has to lean on the countertop for support. That yellow gaze roams over you, to the burnt bread on the floor, and then back to you again.

“You stupid girl,” he whispers. Then, much louder. “You stupid stupid girl!”

This is the part of him you dislike the most. When he’s deep in his cups, all kindness is gone.

“I’m so sorry, father. We were busy and I didn’t realize—”

“Do you know how much you’ve cost us? This is two dozen loaves.” He picks one up and throws it at your face. His aim is terrible and completely off. All you have to do is bend a bit and it sails right over your head.

“Father—”

“Do you do this to me on purpose?”

“Father. Please—”

“Every day I have to look upon your face and see your mother. A daily reminder that she is gone!”

“Please,” you beg softly, staring down at your hands.

“Get out!”

You bolt up and rush out the door, nearly knocking over an elderly woman about to walk inside. You run and run until you pass through the gates of Edoras, stopping only when you make it to the burial mounds of the kings. You fall to your knees and then onto your back, staring up into the sky.

It’s morning, but overcast, the clouds a stormy gray like they’re ready to cry and join you in your sorrow.

There is only one person who could give you comfort, but he is not here. He is gone, expected back today but you’re not sure when. Even if you were to wait for him, you’re in no state to greet him. Éomer should see you happy when he returns, not tear-stained.

No one holds vigil at the burial mounds. This will be your respite. This will be your chance to slow your racing heart and dry your eyes. Once you’re calm, once you’re no longer wishing to flee from this place, you’ll hold vigil at the gates until Éomer arrives. Going back to the shop to face your father is out of the question.

The grass is a soft bed beneath you. Closing your eyes, you press your hands against the earth, splaying your fingers wide, focusing on the individual blades of grass under your palms. This will be your anchor until you can find a bit of peace.

“What are you doing on the ground?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head to the right, meeting the amused smile of the man you love.

“Éomer,” you breathe, sitting up to grab at the front of his leather armor. It doesn’t matter that your hands sting, you pull him down onto you wanting his closeness.

His gentle laugh is perfect, and when your mouths meet, everything slips away. Éomer settles between your legs, his forearm resting by your head while his other hand reaches back to grab. He meets bare thigh, and the contact is exactly what you need.

Éomer is real and whole and with you.

The kisses that start with soft excitement quickly become deep and heated. There is a slight harsh bite to his breathing as the two of you presses closer. Your hands slide up to wrap around the back of his neck, but as they crest over the lip of his armor, the tender flesh on your palm screams out.

Hissing, you draw back, clutching at your hand.

Éomer stills and then pulls away from your lips. His head tips downward, glimpsing the burn before you can hide it from view.

“What happened?” he asks, his tone tipping toward concern.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur, as the memory of your father comes roaring back.

“It’s not nothing,” he replies firmly, his brow creasing. “Show me.”

Slowly, you unfurl your fingers, revealing your palm. Of everyone in your life, Éomer is the safest.

Éomer’s mouth forms into a deep frown as he clutches your wrist, drawing your hand closer to his face as he inspects the burn. “Did someone do this to you?”

You shake your head. “No. Just grabbed some hot bread. That’s all.”

Éomer sees right through you. “You’ve been crying.”

“It hurts.”

Éomer sighs, gently guiding your hand down to your chest. When he releases your wrist, Éomer reaches out to trace the backs of his knuckles against your cheekbone. “You can tell me if it was your father.”

When the tears start to accumulate in your eyes again, Éomer leans in and lowers his voice. “Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Not with his fists.”

Éomer’s exhalation is shaky, like he’s trying to calm his own anger. “You’re coming with me.”

“Éomer—”

“You are coming with me,” he repeats. “We will talk, and I will tend to these burns.” When you open your mouth to argue, Éomer shakes his head. “Don’t be stubborn.”

He slowly sits back on his heels and helps you come to sitting. Then he’s on his feet, bringing you with him. Éomer;s horse, Firefoot, grazes nearby.

Éomer’s hands lightly brush away the blades of grass that cling to your skirts. “Would you like to walk or ride back?”

You love Firefoot dearly, but you’d rather take your time arriving to Edoras’ gates. You’re still not calm, and a slow walk with Éomer at your side might just help you find some peace.

“Could we walk?”

He nods. “If that is what you wish.”

Éomer leads Firefoot by the bridle with one hand, and with the other, he clasps yours. He does not push or dig around, but instead moves at the pace you set. Éomer knows your signals without you having to say anything. Instead of inquiring about your father or what happened, he talks about his time away. It gives you a chance to shift mindsets, to focus on him and nothing else.

When the two of you are in his private room, Éomer guides you over to the hearth. He lays out a small nest of furs and gently helps you down on them, taking care not to accidentally brush against the burn. Once you’re seated, Éomer moves to a far corner of the room to remove his weapons and a few heavy pieces of armor. Then he comes back to you, sitting beside you in front of the fire.

“Show me your hands.” Reluctantly, you present them. Éomer frowns down at them. “Tell me again your father didn’t do this to you.”

“He didn’t. I promise.”

Éomer sighs heavily and his hands wrap around your wrists. He gently guides your hands closer, inspecting the burn. It’s only on your left hand, and Éomer slowly releases the one that’s fine. “I’ll have someone fetch some ointment for this and bandages.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is. I’ll take care of it.”

You snort and Éomer’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “Think I’m incapable?”

“A strong warrior like you capable of such tenderness?” you tease.

His smile softens. “What about all the times I’ve been tender with you?”

Your cheeks heat with the memory. “Not in that way,” you mutter, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Would you prefer that as well?”

“Perhaps later,” you breathe, heart quickening in your chest.

Éomer lifts your wrist to his mouth, placing a kiss on the pulse point. “I’ll return shortly.”

When Éomer acquires the correct ointment and bandages, he sets to work. He cleanses his hands, scrubbing his nails and between his fingers before he begins. Then, with purposeful slowness, Éomer lifts the injured hand and begins rubbing the ointment into the surface-level burns. They likely won’t blister but they’ll sting for a week or more.

Once the ointment is applied, he unwraps the bandages, guiding it over and around your hand to keep the ointment in place. He ties off the extra and cuts it off with a clean blade, tucking the little bit left into the wrappings. Éomer is overly cautious but it’s sweet.

He is always so gentle with you.

“You spoil me,” you murmur.

“I enjoy it,” he replies, turning your hand over to double-check his work.

A soft sadness creeps in. “One day you won’t.”

Éomer glances up. “How so?”

You shrug as if the words don’t mean anything. “You’ll marry a princess. She’ll beautiful and fair. The people will love her.”

Éomer shakes his head. “Why would I ever want such a thing when I have one right here.”

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not.” Éomer kisses your fingers and gently guides your hand to your lap. In a move so delicate it momentarily steals your breath, Éomer cups your cheek and leans in close. “All I ever want. All I ever need. Is right here.”

Éomer stands before the back door of the shop your father owns. He’s still fuming, but not nearly as much as when he saw your hand. For some time, Éomer has wanted to give this man a piece of his mind. You are precious, and more importantly, you don’t deserve his ire.

The man is a drunk, and everyone knows it. Most show him pity because it all started with the death of his wife—your mother. But that was many years ago, and any pity Éomer felt for the man has long since evaporated.

Squaring his shoulders, Éomer pounds on the door like he’s trying to splinter the wood.

You are still in Éomer’s chambers, curled up in the pile of furs he created in front of the fire. You are sacred to him, the woman he wants above all things. One day, you will be his, and will no longer have to answer to your father.

The drunkard swings open the door. “What?” he growls before he realizes who stands before him.

His eyes widen, and he straightens up, smoothing out the rumbled apron. He fumbles over his words and Éomer holds up a single hand, silencing the man.

“I’m not interested in excuses.” Éomer takes a step into the shop, towering over the man. “If I ever see her in tears again because of you, understand that my next visit will be much less pleasant. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”

Éomer wants to stay more, but he draws back his rage. He nods curtly, and exits, only wanting to return to you.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado

[ohnonotnow]

my library

here's some of the best the hobbit/lotr fanfics I've read cuz they can be quite hard to find and I wanna help

will update the list as I read

Thorin

Smoke, iron and Thorin

Fire and Gold

Learning Khuzdul

Braid of Gold

Thorin being soft

The Beauty of Chance

Those Hands

Misunderstanding

The arrival

A king's crown

Covered In Steam

There's just inches in between us

Thorin after a long day of training with his nephews

In This Moment 

Agreement

Symphony of your life

Oh so quiet

Confession

Find Your Way Back

Fili

fili oneshots

Moonrise

The Most Unpleasant, Defective, and Abominable Incident

Stay with me

The Redeemer

Durin's Garage

Restless

Lost My Way

Charcoal

Kili

The book keeper

insecurities

The beauty and the Beast

getting back at Kili for teasing

My Treasure

Madly in love

It's in his kiss

Love Bites

Sway With Me

Wood Carvings

Softly. . .

Sweet like nectar

A Shot in the Dark

Beorn

Early Mornings

Beorn takes care of you when you're injured

Linger

Legolas

Watcher of Wanderers

The Innocence of Brutality

Blessing

Sensitive

Being best friends with Legolas

Hazy Memories

Spellbound

Thranduil

Bookworm

Relax

Best friends father

Fascination

Flower On My Skin

To Meet Under the Stars

Passenger Princess

Autumn Thunderstorm

I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

Haldir

Gentle Dark

Lindir

My Heart Is In Your Hands

Moonlight

Just a Little Help

Warriors Great Tales

The Fountain

Return to Me

Èomer

Burnt Bread

A Helping Hand

Wildest Dreams

Falling In Love With A Librarian

SFW alphabet

Happiness

A Roll in the Hay

Blessing

Turning Points

More characters

various characters oneshots

Imagine: elves having highly sensitive ears and you finding out by accidently touching them.

Journey to Erebor

Hair braiding

Elves + Braiding

What Type of Kisser is Each LoTR Character?

The Hobbit Characters + Physical Affection (Suggestive Version)

A Headcanon For Each Member of Thorin’s Company

Cuddling With Thorin's Company

Imagine some of the elves of Middle Earth find out how easy it is to make you (a human staying in Rivendell) blush and become aroused.

The LOTR characters reacting to a modern reader

[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

[sorcerousundries]

Lalala vs okokok with lotr and the hobbit

Your the lalala, they’re the okokok

Thorin, Fíli, Aragorn, thranduil, Elrond, Arwen, bilbo, gimli, Sam, Éomer, Glorfindel, Bard, Beorn, glóin, Tauriel, Faramir, Boromir, Haldir, Bifur, Dwalin, Balin, Dori, óin, Galadriel

They’re the lalala, your the okokok

Legolas, Frodo, merry, pippin, Éowyn, kíli, celeborn, also Arwen, Lindir, bombur, ori, nori, bofur, meludir

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

I'm writing my first Éomer fic!! It will be a headcanon story, and it night take me a while to finish it, but I'm so happy!

1500 words written already!

EDIT: 3000 words!!

EDIT: 4500 words!!

EDIT: 6000 words!!

EDIT: 7500 words!!!

EDIT: 9000 words!!

EDIT: 10500 words!!

EDIT: 12000 words!!

EDIT: 13500 words!!

EDIT: 15000 words!!

EDIT: 16500 words!!

EDIT: 18000 words!!

EDIT: 19500 words!!

EDIT: Fic is complete at 21000 words!! It will be posted in two parts.

(part one) (part two)

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

No TWs | GN!Reader | Wordcount : 3.3k (each individual around 190~ words) | Read on Ao3

« 1, 4, 5, 6, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ When you get to Rivendell the first thing you do is rush to Frodo’s side - checking he’s ok and thanking the healers.

✧ The second thing you do is take in the beauty of Rivendell, eyes going wide as you see the home of the elves in all its splendour.

✧ He’s walking with you and showing you Rivendell, eyes lighting up almost as much as yours when you see the sights - except the light in his eyes and the smile on his face come from your happiness.

✧ Taking note of what makes your eyes shine brightest, he begins to tour more specifically with your preferences in mind.

✧ As you turn around to express your love of something, he realises he’s too focused on trying to capture every inch of your beauty - especially while being in awe like that - that he misses the question.

✧ Aragorn hopes he isn’t blushing too much when he asks you to repeat the question, this time quickly answering it to the best of his abilities.

✧ The next room captures your attention, and Aragorn instinctively goes back to watching you and laughing with you before he realises what he’s doing.

✧ It’s then he realises the blush on his face isn’t because of embarrassment - but because he likes you.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas is enjoying his time in Imladris, with one of the greatest things being the company. There is you, of course, and the rest of the Fellowship - but it is also nice to spend some time with fellow elves (who aren’t his subjects).

✧ Or, almost fellow elves, such as the sons of Elrond. He has always been intrigued by them, not just for the heritage, and it’s good to spend time with the two. Eventually, in a conversation with Elrohir, the topic finally comes up.

✧ “What is it like, living with Lúthien’s gift?”

✧ “Gift?” Elrohir looks at the elf, “Most call it a choice. Is there a reason you ask? A… someone you ask for?”

✧ His immediate reaction is to say no, and that he is just curious, but then he thinks harder. Is there someone he would stay on Middle Earth for?

✧ As he thinks, an image of the two of you - bow in your hand and grinning at him, bathed in sunlight - comes into his mind. And his mind subconsciously answers the question. If you would have him, he would answer yes.

✧ The elf stays silent, and Elrohir gives a knowing look, before speaking briefly. Offering some advice, and congratulating Legolas on at least figuring out his feelings.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo realised he liked you from just about the second he laid eyes on you - you were unlike anyone he had ever known, and that excited and fascinated him.

✧ He expected the crush to go away, eventually, once the novelty wore off and you were known to him as a friend.

✧ Except it never did. With every new smile he saw from you, every word, every laugh falling from your lips - he slowly became more and more enamoured by you.

✧ It was after yet another night that you’d come round for dinner, it was becoming a regular (and welcome) occurrence that he truly realised he didn’t just have a crush.

✧ Frodo was in love with you.

✧ When he’d finally closed the door, watching as you’d walked away, he could still feel the red on his cheeks - and could see the knowing smile Bilbo gave him when he’d turned around.

✧ Patting him on the back, Bilbo had given the young hobbit words of support and encouragement - a twinkle in his eye as he hinted this love may not be unrequited.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Sam had seen you in and around the Shire a few times before, stopping briefly to look at you before going back to what he was doing.

✧ At first he’d thought it was just him being observant, until Pippin had been over and pointed out that of all the hobbits in the Shire - he’d only stop to look at you.

✧ He was mortified to realise what he'd been doing, and had thrown himself back into his work with much more vigour. Trying to stop himself from being distracted, again.

✧ It works ok, but while in the Green Dragon Pippin assures him that the comments weren't meant in a bad way, and that they were all glad Sam had 'found someone'.

✧ Sam almost isn't sure what they mean, until he thinks back to all the times he's seen you - the times he's blushed. The very small interactions you two have had, that have then lightened his day.

✧ It's thanks to Pippin's teasing he realises he has a crush on you, and then thanks to Frodo when he can finally interact with you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Merry realised he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you.

✧ And not in a silly, young-hobbits-in-love type of crush - but something that reminded him of the story books he'd read as a child.

✧ The ones that said when you met the one for you, you'd feel sparks like Gandalf's fireworks and you'd just know.

✧ He did just know, taking the first opportunity he could to talk to you; talking to you felt even easier than most, as though you were a lifelong friend and not just a stranger.

✧ Every time you make eye-contact, he searches in your eyes for the spark he so clearly feels in his - and when he makes you laugh for the first time he's delighted to see it appear (however briefly).

✧ Each passing day cemented this feeling even more, but he still believes it was love at first sight (for him at least).

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ When the two of you first met, Pippin thought you were an angel (an opinion he still holds, in some regards). The second he realised you were of Middle Earth, he also realised he was blushing like a fool.

✧ He knows the attraction isn't just superficial from the day he meets you, but he also sees it as a crush at the start.

✧ And then he starts to spend time with you.

✧ You make him laugh, he makes you laugh. He makes you smile, you make him smile just by being there.

✧ It's also at this time when he realises that what he feels for you isn't just a crush.

✧ He likes,  no - loves, every part of you. And to call it simply a crush would be an insult to his heart.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Like a lot of the soldiers of the White City, his spirits are high as he watches from Osgiliath, eagerly awaiting the return of the rangers, if only for a little while.

✧ Most of the men are looking forward to the night of celebrations and drinking, although some are more looking forward to seeing their loved ones come home.

✧ Boromir is looking forward to seeing his little brother come home - but he isn’t just looking forward to seeing his little brother. Faramir isn't the only one he dearly misses.

✧ As Captain, he’s in prime position when the rangers come in; immediately identifying the two of you and going over.

✧ He pulls Faramir into a hug before looking at you with a grin, unsure of what to do before you embrace him as well.

✧ Instantly, he hugs back - just as firm and confident as with Faramir’s hug - but inside he can feel his heart almost beating out of his chest.

✧ The grin is still on his face as he comes out of it, and when you begin to talk his heart calms down, although only a little.

✧ It’s only then when he realises his heart isn’t beating fast around you because you’re nervous, but because he loves you.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Faramir knew he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you, even if he was slightly too drunk to realise just how deep it went at the time.

✧ He truly didn’t drunkenly hook-up with people, but he did tend to gravitate towards people he liked. People like you, even when you were in the dark corner. Especially when you were in the dark corner.

✧ And of course, he had kissed you back. The only reason he didn’t try to take it further was because he could smell the alcohol on both of you.

✧ When he had woken up the next morning, he regretted that he had not gotten your name (and the slight hangover).

✧ Then when he saw you, lined up as one of Boromir’s potential betrothed, he could feel his heart do two things.

✧ Skip, at the sight of you again. And drop, at the idea you didn’t love him back.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Staring after Aragorn, Éowyn takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. From chasing him down, and telling him that she knows looking after the children brings honour (without renown). But she should be allowed to seek honour in other places.

✧ And then she feels a hand rest on her shoulder, calming, as she turns around to see you behind her.

✧ You can see her thought process, and tell her that you aren’t here to override your brother’s - or her king’s - orders. But you are here to give her this.

✧ When you press the sword into Éowyn’s hands, finely polished and gleaming perfectly, she can barely think of the words to thank you before she notices your traditional sword is missing.

✧ Instantly, she realises what you’ve given here and tries to give it back - but you keep it firmly in her hands.

✧ “There are many fine weapons in this armoury. Think of it as my gift to you, for now. A promise that I will be coming back to collect it."

✧ "Besides, it brings me comfort that if orcs get into the caves they shall find a warrior there.”

✧ Taking your hand away from the sword you disappear to follow Aragorn, and Éowyn is left holding it. As she watches the two of you leave together, she realises that she may have fallen in love with the wrong sibling (at least at first).

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ When orcs are spotted within Rohan's borders, in two separate places no less, Éomer immediately takes action.

✧ It's bad luck you're on the second group of riders sent out, and worse when you haven't arrived back when Éomer does.

✧ He tries to reassure himself that it's simply bad luck, and nothing dangerous has happened, but by the second day his nerves get the better of him.

✧ With Éowyn he sets out to wait next to the gate you'll ride in from - a traditional practice.

✧ While waiting, he takes the time to look around and sees who else waits for the riders. When women there bat their eyes at him he ignores it until he realises something.

✧ Éomer is one of the only men there, and the only one not blood-related to the rider he is waiting for. Almost everyone else here is a parent, a sibling, or a lover.

✧ So where does that leave him?

✧ He feels blush begin to rise on his face as he realises precisely which one he is. Or, more accurately, which one he wishes to be for you.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Begrudgingly, Bard watches you leave for the final patrol of your shift before laughing as he sees Tilda’s pout when she looks at you going as well.

✧ Looking up at him, she huffs even more; declaring that it isn’t fair he’s allowed to smile while you’re here and while you're away.

✧ He responds that you’re good company, but he can be happy without you - and that’s a good thing.

✧ Then Tilda looks up at him with a doubtful expression. Announcing that he looks extra happy, and his face turns a bit red like when Bain had that fever one time. Or when Sigrid looks at the neighbour's kid, except she shouldn’t tease her sister about that because it’s ‘feelings’.

✧ As pleased as Bard is that his children are taking his lessons to heart, he’s less pleased about her observations.

✧ Keeping walking, Bard tries to reassure her that that’s not what’s going on with him and you - but internally he’s truly thinking about it.

✧ About the fact you’re the first person to make him smile like that for the first time in… a while.

✧ The fact he always lets his kids go up to you because then he can talk to you, and the fact he talks to you even if the kids aren’t with him.

✧ It’s then Bard realises that, somehow, his children have worked out he likes you before he has.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Thranduil had barely noticed that the biweekly meetings had become less formal, and more about the two of you spending time together.

✧ He hadn’t noticed that most of the time you spent talking was just about the two of you, and no longer about his son.

✧ The thing that made him notice just how special these meetings became was when, while watching you leave, he could feel his smile.

✧ There was a warmth in him that wasn’t just from the wine, or the fireplace, and instead a warmth because he felt comfortable.

✧ Around you, he could be himself. Not much changed, of course, but something about being near you felt freeing, and as though he was understood.

✧ A feeling he had not felt in a long time, but a feeling he nonetheless welcomed - especially when it was you that warmed his heart.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ Both of you had managed to get into the royal guard - you getting into the king’s guard, while she began to work with the prince.

✧ It was while she was taking a break, eating in one of the soldier’s halls, when Alinar (a fellow guard) had come up to her with a grin. “So, you and them, right?”

✧ Trying not to sigh, Tauriel gave a quick answer that no, she was not interested in the prince before Alinar began to laugh. Explaining he hadn’t been teasing about her and Legolas, but her and you.

✧ “Anyone with eyes can see you look at them like they’ve got a fourth elven ring, Tauriel. You’re really not subtle.”

✧ She continues to deny, swatting him away, although this time it’s more on principle. Not because she doesn’t like you.

✧ Because… she does look at you that way. You are magnificent, and wondrous, and she does want to be more than your friend.

✧ As you walk into the hall, you look over to the empty space besides her and immediately come over - and she wonders if she normally blushes this much when you smile at her.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Staring at the new poems he’s written, Lindir wonders to himself when his inspiration went from nature and the Valar to… love.

✧ He can still recognise the work as his own, the same metaphors and adoration for his subjects, but he never considered writing romance. Or writing about someone romantically - because he knows that all his works have a muse.

✧ Re-reading the lines over, he tries to imagine the different elves of Imladris fitting into this prose but none of them do.

✧ Deciding to leave it for later, Lindir takes the scrolls and keeps them with him - resolved in going to the library.

✧ On his way there, you cross paths with him - immediately smiling and asking how his day was.

✧ It’s there, looking ethereal against the backdrop of Imladris and roses, that Lindir realises the subject of his new writings.

✧ You are his new muse.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had felt a spark from the first moment you had interacted, your bow drawn - placed in front of your allies and standing as though it would need a thousand warriors to fell you.

✧ These feelings hadn’t even gone away as you let the arrow fly, only afterwards realising he’s not a threat and batting it out of the air.

✧ When you start to apologise he easily stops you, stating that it’s a relief that the Fellowship is travelling with a skilled warrior like yourself.

✧ Watching you go to the Lady Galadriel, he tries to untangle what he’s feeling for you. Is it simply admiration? Or is it something more?

✧ Seeing you alone and clearly wanting to move, he approaches you after the meeting - offering to show you around Lothlórien.

✧ It’s for a somewhat selfish motive, as he wants to try and realise what his feelings are.

✧ And, as his heart seems to lift when you look around and finally seem happy, he understands what his heart wants.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ It’s the day after their birthday, finally in their first century, when Elrohir wakes his brother up by poking him.

✧ Elladan is still sleepy, but he’s aware enough to ask what his twin thinks he’s doing.

✧ “I want to know why you didn’t confess, brother dearest.”

✧ The sing-song voice is annoying, but Elladan still gives the question some thought. Confess? About what? Or confess to someone?

✧ Seeing his brother clearly isn’t going to get it, Elrohir lets out a sigh before directly name-dropping you. He’s instantly rewarded with seeing a heavy blush, before poorly spluttered denial about you simply being a friend.

✧ Looking directly into Elladan’s eyes, he speaks again. “Brother, I have watched the two of you dance around each other for almost a century. Sometimes I think I’m the one suffering because of your love. You could at least acknowledge your feelings to yourself.”

✧ He can still see the blush on Elladan’s face, obvious against his hair. But he can also see acceptance and realisation in his brother's eyes. The realisation that he wants you as something more than a friend.

✧ “Took you long enough.”

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Elrohir was never sure if he believed in love at first sight. It was never something discussed among the elves, where feelings tended to develop over years of emotional connection. But it also seemed like a real thing to mortals - and not just in the tales of old.

✧ As a son of Elrond, where did that leave him? Would his feelings come after decades with a lover, or from a glance across the forest?

✧ And then you arrived.

✧ Instantly, something skipped in his heart - and he felt almost exactly what he’d always thought true love would feel like.

✧ But it wasn’t quite the blazing fire that some of the tomes described, more like a spark.

✧ Then he met you again, desperately trying to do the best you could to keep your city safe. And then again in Gondor’s war council, fearlessly pledging your allegiance to the new king and winning over others with honeyed words and promises.

✧ It was then when his heart was set on you.

✧ So, not quite love at first sight, it had taken a little more time for him to be completely sure.

✧ Yet he was still completely enamoured by you, at the latest, by at the end of your third meeting.

Hope you enjoyed! So sorry this is late, I had it completed and then forgot to post it - was just sitting in my drafts. Soo... yeah, I am very sorry about that. Thank you again for your support! Requests here.

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[zepskies]

LOTR/THE HOBBIT MASTERLIST

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

Aragorn

One-Shots:

One Promise After the battle at Helm’s Deep, you find it difficult to enjoy the victory feast. Aragorn notices your melancholy and tries to comfort you.

Eomer

One-Shots:

As Tradition Dictates** Your marriage to the Third Marshal of the Mark has been arranged, in the hopes of renewing political ties between Rohan and Gondor. The morning after the ceremony, your new husband continues to defy your expectations.

Thranduil

One-Shots:

Coming soon...

Haldir

One-Shots:

Coming soon...

Main Masterlist

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[celestialhole]

Éomer is perfect enemies to lovers material. Prove me wrong.

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐑 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I just wanted to write some fluff!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑨𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒏 🗡️

・At first, he tilts his head, lips parting like he might question it. But then he sees your expression; calm, trusting, maybe a little playful, and something in him softens.

“I can try,” he says, voice rough around the edges, but warm. “It’s been… a long time since I’ve braided anyone’s hair.”

・You sit together near the fire. His sword is laid beside him, boots still dusty from the road.

・And yet, he treats the moment like it deserves stillness. Like your request has pulled him out of time.

・His hands are calloused, weather-worn.

・You can feel him being careful not to tug too hard.

・He works in silence, brows furrowed in concentration.

・His fingers move slower than Legolas’, less sure than Faramir’s, but steadier than you’d expect.

・Every now and then, he huffs out a breath that sounds like a quiet laugh.

“You have too much hair for this to go unnoticed,” he murmurs. “The braid will hold, but only just. It may rebel before the day is done.”

・But still, he continues.

・And when he finishes...it’s a bit uneven. Slightly lopsided with a few bits of hair hanging out.

・Yet it was done with love and effort and the kind of care no one taught him

・He rests a hand briefly at the base of your braid, like he’s grounding you. Or himself.

“There. You’re ready.”

・And when he sits back, he doesn’t say anything else.

・But throughout the day he watches you, making sure it holds, and if were to come loose, you can come back to him.

・He'll braid it again. Every time.

𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒔 🌙

・He blinks once, slow and surprised, then tilts his head, curious.

“It would be my honor,” he says, with the kind of sincerity that makes your chest tighten.

・Legolas doesn’t ask why. Doesn’t tease.

・He treats the request with deep, quiet admiration. Almost as if you've asked him to perform an ancient rite...which you kinda have.

・He steps behind you in complete silence.

・With featherlight, gentle hands (you hardly feel them at first), he works. And he does it quite quickly.

・You realise this isn't the first time he's braided hair before.

“Each braid has meaning,” he murmurs. “Length. Type. Tension. In my realm, we braid for protection. For remembrance. For love.”

・You go still. He doesn’t elaborate.

・And then he sings.

・It's soft, in Elvish.

・And not one that you know. But it feels old. Comforting. Like wrapping your arms around a loved one you haven't seen in a while.

・When he finishes, he runs one finger gently along the braid’s edge

・And when you turn to look at him; eyes shining and heart full, he meets your gaze and adds, ever so softly:

“You should ask me again sometime.”

・Because this wasn’t just a braid.

・It was a memory.

・And he plans to make more of them with you.

𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒓 🛡️

・Oh how he melts.

“I’ve never been asked to do something like that...But I'll try.”

・He moves to sit behind you, shuffling so that his legs are around you.

・Boromir's hands are big, definitely too big for this, but he continues anyway.

・As he gathers your hair, gently brushing it out of your face and into his palm, he mutters:

“You’ll have to forgive me if it’s not Elvish-perfect,” he murmurs. “We weren’t taught much about braids in the White Tower.”

・And then he grows quiet, thoughtful. This isn’t just a braid anymore. It’s a way to show you affection...a part of him enjoys it.

・Although he is trying to make it perfect.

・At the end, the braid is a little loose, a little uneven, but strong.

・Woven like a promise.

・He secures it with a small leather tie from his own belongings; nothing special, but something his.

“There. Done.” A pause. “I hope it’s alright.”

・You turn to thank him, but he’s already looking away, trying not to smile.

・Fingers twitching like he wants to touch your hair again but won’t; unless you ask.

“If it ever comes undone,” he adds quietly, “you know where to find me.”

𝑬́𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓 🏹

・He thinks of it as a challenge...straight away.

“You don’t think I can?”

"Ugh! That's not what I meant?"

"What did you mean?"

"Just wanted someone to braid my hair, you ass."

・You weren't even teasing him, but then it becomes a whole thing.

・He kneels down behind you like a man preparing for war. Cracks his knuckles. Rolls his shoulders. And in turn, you roll your eyes.

・When he actually starts, there's a shift. The bravado eases and he becomes focused.

・His rough fingers, to your surprise, are steady.

・And you can feel the care as well...and feel, a protective energy.

・Like if anyone tried to touch your braid he'd punch them.

・When he’s done? He absolutely beams. And before getting up, he tugs the end playfully, then stands back with his arms crossed.

"There. Just got your hair braided by a Third Marshal...that's got to be worth something."

・If someone compliments it later, he absolutely puffs up with pride (but plays it off like it was no big deal)

“Looks good doesn't it. I did it. She asked me. Only right I made sure it was done proper.”

・And although Eomer doesn’t say it out loud, in his mind he promises something wolfish and loyal:

No one touches what I’ve claimed with my hands.

𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒓 🌾

・At first, he blinks—slow and surprised, like he thinks he misheard you.

“You would trust me with something so personal?”

・He isn't teasing. No, Faramir is genuinely honoured.

・Because he's the kind of man who sees tenderness as something rare and doesn’t take it lightly.

・You sit between his knees, and he treats your hair like something sacred.

・The word 'gentle' repeats in his head over and over.

・His hands are warm as he gathers your hair from your shoulders

・His fingers accidentally touch the bareness of your neck and goosebumps erupt.

・You go red; luckily he can't see your face.

・Faramir barely speaks, only jums softly under his breath; something old, maybe a lullaby he remembers from his mother.

・Every now and then he asks, in a light voice:

“Does this feel alright?” “Too tight?” “Shall I start again?”

・Once he's done, (he took his time on purpose), he wraps the end with a small ribbon.

One you didn't know he'd been keeping. As he ties it, it's as if he's sealing a promise.

・For a moment longer than they need to, his fingers linger.

“There. You’re ready to meet kings and storms alike.”

・And if you could see his face, you would notice a faint flush on his cheeks

・Like he's been given something sacred...and he hopes you'll ask him again tomorrow.

𝑮𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒇 🪄

・His first reaction is a slight chuckle, partially amused.

“My dear, it has been centuries since I was asked for that favor.”

・He takes a seat and motions for you to sit in front of him. Your legs are crossed on the floor, and your hands are fidgeting in your lap.

・You can feel his long, elegant fingers begin to pick up hair. A slight shiver runs down your spine at the image of it.

・At first he murmurs, in a language you do not know. But his voice is peaceful, and you can hear the chirping of night bugs.

・He knows exactly what he's doing. You’d expect an old wizard to fumble, but Gandalf’s hands are steady

・It takes a while, but the murmurs turn into little humming and you cannot help but smile.

・The braid is meticulous, elegant, maybe a little too perfect.

・You end up with something that feels sacred, like it should be worn into battle or a coronation.

・After he's done, he gives a small hum of approval. In a wistful voice he says:

“So the wind will not catch your thoughts and carry them away.”

・And then he lights his pipe, looks off toward the horizon, and pretends it was no big deal.

・...But for the rest of the journey, he walks a little closer to you.

[wordbunch]

their love language [LOTR characters]

a/n: not requested, just a little idea that i've had and wanted to share 💛 do let me know how you liked it, what you think, and i always greatly appreciate reblogs and comments 🥰 i wish you a sparkling new year!

ARAGORN ♡ acts of service and words of affirmation

This man would do anything for the person he loves and he is the most comfortable when it comes to expressing his feelings in that way. Any type of physical labor and tasks is no issue for him if he can make it easier for you, and you have grown to notice it all the time and appreciate it. His heart doubles in size when you return your affections in that way too, especially since he isn’t exactly used to having things done for him. When the mood is just right, he has no trouble waxing poetic about you and elaborating his feelings, whether in Westron, Sindarin or any other language - you are worth all of them! When he does that, it’s usually in a hushed tone with a special air of intimacy, and it feels so sacred and special.

BOROMIR ♡ physical touch and quality time 

He is one tactile man and a human furnace, like, constantly, and having an arm around you simultaneously means keeping you safe as well. It’s a way for him to show his love, but also to be his protective self. However it’s not just you he’s trying to reassure through gentle touches, he also feels better and happier knowing you’re there and so close. Due to his position, he has many obligations and not always the desired amount of free time, so he’s keen on spending all on it on you. Boromir feels immensely guilty if he must cancel something last minute, or be late for a meeting with you because he was held up somewhere else, but you can count on the fact that he’ll make it up to you tenfold.

FARAMIR ♡ words of affirmation and quality time

As a person who is well-read and a romantic soul, yet someone who hadn’t particularly received many verbal validations, his absolute go-to are words of affirmation! He will shower you with sincere compliments, praise your achievements, reassure you when you’re down… he will even write poetry for you, or just recite something on the spot, it’s honestly the sweetest. Much like his brother, Faramir can be quite busy, but he tries to make sure that none of his duties interfere with the time that he sets aside to spend with his beloved. 

LEGOLAS ♡ gift giving and words of affirmation

This peculiar young prince doesn’t necessarily have a favorite way of showing you love and he can be all over the place with it - he hadn’t exactly had a bunch of experience with romantic relationships - but something that seems to be a constant is him giving you small tokens of his affections. Not even something fancy all the time, sometimes it will be a pretty flower or a hair pin, but everything pretty reminds him of your beauty and he wants you to know that. If he’s unsure about how to verbally explain all the ways you make him feel, he can always revert to one of many elven songs and poems to describe it!

FRODO ♡ words of affirmation and acts of service

He is a book boy and absolutely the type of person to write long, heartfelt letters! Initially he would hide behind them because it’s easier to write feelings down and slip that under your front door, but just give him time and soon enough he’ll be raving about how in love he is with you and how you’re the best of the best in his eyes - but face to face. Frodo is very selfless as we all know, and he’s able to anticipate your needs and help you with all sorts of things before you even ask for it. Also he really appreciates your gratefulness for it.

SAM ♡ acts of service and quality time

Acts of service is the ultimate love language of this sweet gardener!! He would do absolutely anything for you, strenuous or not, and not even expect anything in return. You’re aware of that and thus you make sure to properly thank him for everything he does in more ways than one. You always joke that he’s going to spoil you. Sam loves just existing with you, not even doing anything particularly significant, but just spending time together no matter what you do. Everything with you feels like home and he never wants to leave your side.

MERRY ♡ gift giving and physical touch

He definitely has a mix of all love languages, but surprising you with small tokens of affection and seeing your eyes sparkle in surprise is just his favorite thing! He notices and memorizes when you like something, and he will use the first opportunity to acquire it for you and make you happy. Besides that, having you physically close to him is a must - Merry is almost constantly fiddling with your fingers, has an arm around your shoulders, or just mindlessly scratching up and down your arm. It’s a simple reminder that you’re there, safe and loved.

PIPPIN ♡ physical touch and words of affirmation

Those are his favorite ways of both receiving and giving love: they’re so straightforward and genuine (and he is least likely to mess up). Everything seems better and brighter when your hand is securely clasped in his, or he receives a forehead kiss, or ruffles your hair and playfully nudges you. Pippin isn’t quite used to compliments and his cheeks will heat up every single time you offer him a genuine compliment or encouragement, and he wants to make you feel the same way - he can talk a lot anyway so, might as well talk about how wonderful you are!

ÉOMER ♡ acts of service and physical touch

Maybe he isn’t the best at romantic proclamations of love, or picking out the perfect anniversary present, but whatever you need him for, he will be there in a heartbeat. Secretly he likes to feel your eyes on him as he does something for you, it makes him feel very proud. Another thing that never fails him is physical affection, because sometimes hands and lips say more than words ever could. And he makes sure that you can feel exactly how passionate and loving he is in every single kiss and caress.

ÉOWYN ♡ quality time and physical touch

She loves her independence and her peace, but letting you in made her realize it’s not too bad having someone occupying her space and thoughts. Éowyn loves to include you in her daily activities and she really grew fond of doing all sorts of mundane things together - you just make them so much more vibrant and interesting. Something that became her weakness as soon as you two met was your gentle touch and affection like no other, especially after long days and during cold nights, and it’s a simple but effective way of showing how much she cares for you.

ARWEN ♡ words of affirmation and gift giving

She is a romantic soul through and through, and she never gets bored of praising you, whether it be for your kindness, beauty, wit, or anything else. She also loves discussing all sorts of topics with you and that’s one of the things that made her fall for you in the first place. Also, this beautiful elf-maiden likes beautiful, dainty things, and she loves making you happy through little surprises and meaningful gifts, especially subtle matching jewelry!

taglist my beloved (probs not even valid anymore but oh well) @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorin-painter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @high-sea-husbands @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth @moth-makay

@bubbleyukismile @kitexvi @herstudios @babe-bombadil

[system-to-the-madness]

Not my King - Éomer x Reader

Pairing: Éomer x Rohirim!Reader(can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 2 213 Warnings: mentions of war and the Nazgul, Implied, that Reader joined the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, Summary: While you keep wake at the fire throughout the night, Éomer joins you A/N: Part of the winter solstice event 2024

It had been well over half a year, since the ever approaching shadow in the south east had been banned. The darkness that crept now over the green lands of Rohan was of no evil making, but the sun’s seasons. Still, you felt a shiver run down your spine as you stood at the tops of the stairs that lead up to Meduseld, and watched darkness claim the land beyond the city gates, even though it was only early afternoon. It still felt unnatural, the same way any darkness felt unnatural now, ever since you had seen the Nazgul with their winged beasts. Even now, shivers ran down your spine when you had to walk alone at night and thought to see teeth emerge from deep shadows.

Shivering at the thought, you tore yourself away from dark memories. Tomorrow the days would grow longer again, you reminded yourself, but for now you had to guard the fire in the Golden Hall so it may not be extinguished during the longest night, when the shadows felt so much deeper than they usually did.

The door to the Hall suddenly swung open, music and cheering pouring out into the twilight, making you flinch. The feast was in full swing, and you were standing out here alone, drowning in dark thoughts!

Shaking yourself loose, you tore your eyes away from the mountains behind which the sun had sunken and slipped through the closing door into the Hall.

The air inside was heavy with the smell of wooden fire and roasted meat, spilled beer and drunken songs. The shortest day of the year demanded celebration until late into the night, so the nights knew to grow shorter again. For many years the old tradition had not been held under the evil spell the white wizard had cast over the former king. Now the current king, Éomer, had brought that tradition back to life.

King. 

You almost snorted at the thought. What a king he was.

It was easy, as always to spot Éomer in the crowd of drinking and celebrating men, his hair the fairest, his voice the loudest, his cheer the brightest. Had you not known him as well as you did, you might have respected him more, now that he was on the throne. But it was hard to take the man seriously, who as a boy had fallen face first into horse dung or been carried off by his mare through half the Riddermark.

The first time you had met him alone after his coronation, you had laughed into his face, at how ridiculous it was to have him of all people on the throne, and he might have been angered had these words been spoken by anyone but you. Instead, a rueful smile had graced his lips, and his dark eyes had glanced at you from under his lashes like a little boy's, who was embarrassed for an objectively failed project he was proud of nonetheless. 

Oh no, you had to stop thinking about this moment. Your heart grew all too soft at the memory of his gaze, or the way he had teasingly threatened he would need a queen one day and if you were not to stop mocking him, he might put that crown on your head just for revenge. It had been mockery; you were sure if it. But you were scared your reaction to the thought of getting to be married to Éomer might have been too honest for such jokes. Either he had not noticed or not cared because if anything the time he had spent with you from then on had not shortened but increased instead.

On evenings, when the wind was especially harsh, he had come to meet you by the fire, sharing a loaf of bread and stir-fried vegetables. But when the weather was fair, he had invited you for rides, challenging you for races and never taking a no for an answer.

"Any rider who faced the battle on the Pelennor Fields against their king's and their captain's will shall not turn down a race against me, don't you think?" And when you came back, hands red from the cold, he had taken them between his, rubbed warmth into them, and blown his hot breath against your skin to warm you.

Those were dangerous moments, when he was standing just close enough for you to lean over, press your lips to his and reveal that aching longing in your heart. You never had, but it had always been a hard fight. Especially when he had looked up at you again from underneath his black lashes with eyes as brown as one might imagine, seeming to beg you to close the distance. Maybe you would have, had he not been king. But he was, so you had not.

Now he was clicking his mug against those of his companions, face split into a wide smile, no care in the world seeming left on his shoulders, and you turned away, determined to not pay him any more thought on this night. An impossible task as it would prove.

-

The Golden Hall had calmed down long ago. The music and singing had ceased, the tables been freed of the weight of food stacked upon them. The people who had celebrated until late at night had retired, most of them more swaying than walking. Parents had carried children, who had spent the whole evening dancing and laughing, now asleep, to their beds, and two dogs had curled up by the fire which you were tasked to guard. Under no circumstances was it to go out or else bad fortune for the coming year would come over Rohan and the beings trapped in the shadows of the longest night would slither over, wreaking havoc in every city and village they would come across.

Why you had been chosen to protect Rohan through the fire in the Golden Hall tonight, you were not sure. In years long past, it had been Éowyn and you together, but with her having stayed in Gondor, it was your task alone now. A while ago your eyelids had gotten heavy, but one of the dogs' suddenly scratching behind his ear had woken you up again, and since then the thought, that failure in keeping the fire burning might lead to another encounter with a Nazgul, kept you more than awake. 

You had long lost all sense of time, only staring into the flickering flames and occasionally putting on more wood to keep the fire strong, so when you heard footsteps approach from one of the corridors, you almost assumed it was turning morning. But then the door got opened and the speed and force used told you it was Éomer, which in turn meant it was more likely late night than early morning.

"How's the fire going," he asked, walking over to where you were sitting wrapped in a blanket. 

"It's strong. The wood burns well this year," you told him, putting you head back to be able to look up at him. He was wearing a simple red tunic with gold and green embroidery, a pair of linen trousers and light shoes. His hair was freshly brushed and unbound, his beard neatly trimmed. From this angle he did look like a king, majestic and yet kind, the light of the fire dancing in his eyes as he looked down on you sitting at his feet.

"Why are you up," you wondered, "the night is late, shouldn't everyone have gone to bed long ago?"

"Sleep evaded me," Éomer answered, but you were not sure how much truth his words held. He did not look like someone who had spent hours tossing in bed, chasing dreams. His hair was too neatly brushed, his tunic too smooth.

Without another word Éomer sat down next to you, facing the fire, and grabbed an iron poker, moving around in the ashes that had gathered at the side of the fire pit.

"You can think why I tasked you to care for the fire tonight, can you not," he suddenly asked, his voice quiet, lacking the usual force behind his words.

"I cannot," you answered truthfully, "but I shall not complain. Guarding the fire is an honour and allows for relishing old memories."

You left it open, the implication that it was the memories of the nights you had stood guard by the fire with Éowyn, not the memories of the sword-like teeth of the winged creature you had encountered on the Pelennor Fields.

"Can you really not," Éomer wondered. 

"You know me, my lord," you laughed quietly. "If I knew, I would tell you with no hesitation."

Éomer turned to look at you, studying the play of light and shadow on your face, the warm light of the fire and the cool shadows of the night.

"It was a selfish act," he admitted, turning away again and fixing his eyes on the fire. "I was hoping to get us time, just the two of us, to talk. And then I spent the better half of the night pacing through my room with thoughts running wild in my head instead of facing you."

"Facing me," you echoed, furrowing your brows. "What kind of creature am I that I am to be faced?"

"The fairest of them all," Éomer answered without missing a beat, "the most beautiful being that has ever walked this earth. And not even Master Gimli shall be able to convince me the lady of the woods could ever be more beautiful than you are to me."

Surprised you blinked. Éomer had never been one for sweet words of praise, not when it came to you at least. His words towards you always used to be filled with jest and mirth. Was he jesting now? Your eyes flickered to your hands, rough from cold water and with rims of black under your nails from where you had cleaned your horse around noon. Beautiful he had called you, and even praised you above the fairest of the many races that populated Middle-earth.

"Whatever the punchline to this joke will be-"

"There is none," Éomer interrupted you. "None but my heart. I've known it for too long, and I wish I could have made my heart known earlier. There was fear, of what Wormtongue would do to you if he were to know the extent of my care for you. But since he has been cast out, it has been pure cowardice of your rejection that has kept my tongue from revealing my heart. When I saw you protect my sister's lifeless body against the Orcs, I knew there was no hand I would ever wish to hold but yours. I had hoped the past months had made that plain, but you neither responded nor pulled away, leaving me to hope against hope-"

"I don't know you as one to make long speeches," you interrupted Éomer with your heart beating in your throat. Could it really be he meant the words he had spoken? "Say what you mean to."

A smile pulled at Éomer's lips as he turned to look at you again. 

"See, this is one of the countless reasons I love you. Never afraid to put your king back in line."

"You're not my king, never were. Not like that anyway."

"No, you're right. I'm not. I'm just the man asking with a fool’s heart for your permission to court you."

At his words you fully turned to him, finding he was smiling at you fondly, an expression which you had, now that you thought about it, never seen directed at anyone but you.

"Not my king," you repeated, and reached up, brushing your fingertips over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks. "But my Éomer."

It seemed like your words had ignited a fire much stronger than that burning before you inside Éomer's chest, because he broke into a smile, his whole body tensing with held back joy.

"You mean it," he asked, disbelievingly, "you really mean it?"

"As much as I have ever meant anything! Had I known that those were your intentions all along, I would never have held back on my own!"

"Oh, two proper fools we are," Éomer cried. "How much precious time we let pass by! All these times I had held back from sharing the sweetest kisses with you!"

"You needn't hold back anymore," you laughed, amused at his despair. "No evil shall befall you were you to kiss me at any time, but perhaps the stares of others."

"At any time," Éomer asked, as if to assure himself of the meaning of the word.

"At any time," you repeated, and only when Éomer lent forward to press his lips to yours did you understand his intention behind asking again.

His beard was rough against your skin, but his golden hair like the finest silk between your fingers as you wove your fingers between the strands, and let his gentle but eager lips guide you.

And so the sun eventually rose in the east in a clear, cold morning without you noticing, as Éomer's kisses kept you distracted by the still brightly flickering flames of the fire in Meduseld.

[edges-of-night]

I’m so happy you’re back I adore your writing! I wanted to request one where the reader comforts the lotr characters after they have a nightmare💕

Thanks love

This is a sweet request, anon! It turned out a bit angsty, at least in parts... I hope you’ll enjoy the read ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn frequently dreams of Narsil, Isildur, and the shadows of his ancestors. Those nightmares leave him distraught and at first even disoriented. It takes you a while to get through to him with soft Elven whispers and gentle hands to steady him. When you do, he does calm and holds onto your hand tight and keeps mumbling weakly, “Meleth nín…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Nightmares are worse for Elves than Men, due to their gift of foresight which amplifies the bad things they see in their dreams. The dark future Arwen sees at night haunts her during the daylight, too, but you are there to hold her hands and offer a shoulder to cry on. While she won’t lose hope easily, the shock in Arwen’s heart is deep every time.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir won’t tell you about his nightmares until he would start crying one morning, seemingly out of the blue. You are there to comfort him with a gentle hand on his back and all the silence he needs to collect himself, before finally opening up about his fears and the nightmares they conjured. “At least I have the certainty you would not think less of me, knowing what you know now…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

You wake by Elrond’s side when his nightmare punches him out of sleep. For long, terrible moments, he was back amidst the fires of Mount Doom, desperate lungs filled with poison smoke and disbelieving eyes on Isildur’s back. Now you can provide him with air and water to bring him back to the cool calm of Rivendell.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

It has taken you far too long to wake poor Éomer from his nightmare. His feverish, sweaty, desperate face would have broken your heart had it lasted any longer. But war leaves its invisible wounds, and Éomer wasn’t spared. He holds onto you for dear life as if he was only half-way back to reality, but you tell him everything would be all right.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Upon waking her from her nightmare, Éowyn draws her sword at you, staring you down with a fury you have never seen in her usually so kind eyes before. You back away slowly, speaking softly to bring her back to reality and away from whatever has been haunting her. When she recognises you, Éowyn bursts into tears, hiding her face. “Oh, forgive me! Forgive me, love…!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Childhood trauma has often kept Faramir awake, but creeping its way into his dreams was even worse. When he wakes, he needs only seconds to reorientate himself, but would then cover his mouth to not wake you with his sobs. You, of course, are not bothered but concerned by what you hear and offer Faramir to spend the night awake with him until he would fall asleep in your arms as you watch the sunrise.

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo tosses and turns in his sleep with big sighs and sobs which eventually wake you up. You know that Frodo isn’t an easy sleeper, but his nightmare phases still shock you anew every time. You gently wake him up to tell him everything was fine, and at first Frodo genuinely seems relieved. However, you know that the following hours won’t be easy for him, so you keep supporting him with kind words and his favourite tea, taking it easy all day.

.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Nightmares are so rare for Galadriel that she has no way of dealing with them. They bring tempests not only to her heart but Lórien, too. You stay with her throughout and guide her back to the light in the days afterwards. She is weak but leans on you for incorrigible support. Thanks to your care, closeness, and words of affirmation, the Lady of Light can return to her normal life.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s nightmare has summoned thunder and lightning, keeping you from sleeping. When you try to deliver him from whatever evils keep chasing him, a magical fire flames up. When you try to touch Gandalf’s shoulder again, it diminishes, and you manage to wake him up. The storm is gone almost in an instant, and Gandalf’s face is as soft and friendly as ever. He won’t talk about his nightmare right away.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

One night, you would hear quiet sobs next to you and realise Gimli was crying in his sleep. He would not wake up easy when you pat his shoulder or caress his arm, but eventually his eyes would open and he’d meet yours with a sad and tired gaze. Perhaps he would like to talk to you about his nightmares of Moria’s fall at a later point, but for now, he is content with you letting him cry without judgement, stroking and kissing his hair gently.

.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Out of fear of giving others leverage against him, Haldir won’t tell anyone of his horrible nightmares. Since your sleep has always been light though, you notice very soon that something is wrong with dear Haldir. While he would deny your offers of comfort rather coldly at first, he eventually asks you to simply listen to his sorrows so that they no longer weigh down his heart. You know how bad the sentiment is for Elves, so you thank him genuinely for sharing it with you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

As with all Elves, nightmares are poison to Legolas due to his Elven abilities. Darkness and terror spread in his heart, and it will take him weeks to recover. You are always there to hug and kiss him – physical touch is what comforts poor Legolas the most in these times. He is as restless as ever, but you remind him that he is safe with you. “Indeed, there no fortress in this world where I would be more secure than in your arms, my love.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry always tries rationalising his nightmares, to the point where he won’t allow himself to be vulnerable and let his fear sink in. That is where you can help your poor Hobbit the most: by reminding him that you will always be there for him, no matter if it’s the middle of the night and some random “nonsense darkening his mind”. You sit down with him by a fire and talk about it all.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After nightmares, Pippin is often still scared for a longer time. After helping him calm down, you make sure to light as many candles and lamps as possible. Food is also a good comfort for Pippin, which has led you to make strawberry sandwiches at three in the morning twice already. To ground himself further, Pippin would also sometimes sing to you quietly.

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam’s nightmares are intense but thankfully leave as quickly as they come. He usually sleeps well whenever he is with you, and you comforting him after a traumatic dream reminds him why: You take him seriously, sometimes more than he himself does, and don’t ridicule the encounters of his nightmares. Cuddles and a bit of talking usually do the trick, and the two of you fall asleep again soon ♡

[random-imagines-blog]

Tip My Helmet {Eomer x Elf!Reader Oneshot}

Wordcount: 4004 Requested by: Anonymous Summary: You're an elf, the sister of Legolas, while he is a human. Though war brings you close to one another, is there a chance for after?

This was not where you expected to be during a time of war. Inside of Rohan, drinking human ale with all of the survivors of the Battle of Helm’s Deep - and the newly re-found Merry and Pippin. You stood with your brother as Eomer handed out tankards, one to you, one to Gimli, one to your brother. Some kind of juvenile drinking game. You played such things back in Mirkwood from time to time, but with alcohol that was much stronger than this. Your hands wrapped around the tin, feeling the warmth of the drink within. “No pauses,” Eomer was explaining. “No spills.”

“And no regurgitation,” Gimli added on, his eyes large like a child’s as he brought his lips to the foamy liquid swimming atop the ale.

“So, it’s a drinking game?” Your brother asked in an innocent tone, making you smirk slightly to yourself. Legolas was a lightweight, by Elven standards, but with this ale, he’d still be standing strong by the time that everyone else is passed out. Eomer’s eye caught yours with a look of amusement, and you smiled softly.

“Last one standing wins!” Gimli announced, sounding very sure of himself. His laughter filled the air, along with the cheers of the Men of Rohan. Both his large hands went around the cup and brought it to his lips.

“What’ll we drink to? To victory! To victory!” The men around us called out. You lifted your drink towards your mouth, taking a sip of it. It tasted much more earthy than you had been expecting. Not a bad taste at all. Your eyes went from the handsome ones of Eomer to your brother, who ventured a taste as Gimli was chugging his down. He was getting froth all over his beard, something which amused you to no end.

Every time a tankard was emptied, Eomer would hand over another. You stopped yourself at four, shaking your head towards the Rider of Rohan. But your brother and Gimli kept going, to the surprise of the men around. More and more of the metal cups riddled the tabletop. Another two gone, before Eomer could even finish filling two more. Gimli stood on his chair to look at all the empty cups, your own three included, and let out a very drunken laugh.

“I’m not sure we should be doing this,” you said to Eomer, as your brother sipped at his own drink more delicately compared to everyone else around. “I’m starting to suspect that this will damage him beyond tonight.”

“It’s the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women!” Gimli said out of nowhere, saying this as if it were a matter of pride. And then let out a burp that made even you grimace, his eyes crossing as he stuck his face back into his cup.

“I feel something,” Legolas said, looking at his fingers. Eomer looked bewildered, and you sighed, shaking your head again at how damn adorable he looked like that. “A tingling in my fingers. I think it’s affecting me.”

“What did I say?” Gimli said, his words coming out in a strong slur. “He can’t hold his liquor.” His eyes crossed again, then rolled back into his head and Gimli fell down onto the ground. Head over heels.

“Game over?” Legolas said. You chastised him with just a look, for being dramatic like this. It hadn’t been a fair contest - but at least no humans had decided to join in. That much would probably have killed them.

Your group parted, Legolas helping to carry the slumbering Gimli to his room, and you moved further into the party. You found yourself being caught up in the festivities, Eowyn asking you for a dance, though you knew this was just a guise. She really wanted to learn more about Aragorn - but you stayed tight-lipped about the subject, merely smiling and dancing with her in the center of the room. The mood in the air was good. You had all won a grand victory for Rohan, for the light. A large army had been vanquished. The dark was losing the battles. You then danced with Merry and Pippin, both of them holding one of your hands. You were laughing along with them, at their enthusiasm, at their positivity. You even caught sight of Gandalf and Aragorn sharing a smile while watching you. But as you were getting ready to go over to them, a familiar set of hands touched yours gently. “Time for one last dance, my lady?”

You met Eomer’s eyes, and you smiled at him, letting his hands take hold of yours. “I’ve told you not to call me that,” You reminded, chiding him gently.

“My apologies,” he said, bowing his head. “It’s a hard habit for me to break.”

“Perhaps you should try harder,” you said, as the jaunty music continued to play, and you started the dance with Eomer. Hand in hand, you went through the steps of a folk dance, picking it up quickly. It was simple, with a few foot movements. With your bodies being close to one another. Your tunic brushed up against this, your body proximity close. He merely chuckled again, and his breath was warm against your neck while you danced. It finished with a twirl, your long hair, blonde like your brother and your father’s, flying through the air, then resting against your shoulders as you found yourself in Eomer’s arms.

There were cheers from the men around. Whistles. They seemed to be more cheering for Eomer than for yourself, you noticed, as if he had done something bold, something - he should be rewarded for. “Thank you for the dance,” he said, bowing his head to you.

“A pleasure as always, Eomer,” you said, returning the gesture. But you didn’t let go of his hand as everyone went back to their own business. No longer looking at the two of you. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

He raised an eyebrow at you but then nodded his head, not a bow. He let go of your hand, but followed you through the throngs of people, his large presence making you very aware that he was there.

The sweet-smelling breeze of the night air cooled your face once you stepped outside of the castle. You didn’t move too far, not going down the stairs quite yet to the city. It felt like a welcome difference from the heat inside, with the fires and the humans all crowded together, sweaty and warm. Your eyes turned upwards, looking towards the skies. The stars were bright tonight. They, too, seemed pleased by the victory.

“The stars - I believe they’re shining for us tonight,” You mumbled towards Eomer. “Even the sky is pleased about our victory. We’re on the right path.”

“You think so?” Eomer said, leaning against one of the columns of the front of the castle, his arms crossed as he looked up and out as well. “How can you tell? They look like plain stars to me.”

You chuckled, finding his humanity endearing. “The stars are beloved to my people. We have a relationship with them. They help us during times of trouble - and have always been dependable.”

“Trees, stars,” Eomer said, his eyes coming down from the skies to linger on your face. “Is there anything that you don’t have a relationship with?”

His tone showed that he meant no offense. He was a curious man. He had told you, when you had been riding back from the Battle of Helm’s deep, that he hasn’t had much contact with elves before. He had asked you about your homeland, about your brother, about how you had learned the skills in battle that you had shown. He had some outdated ideas about how women should not fight. But he couldn’t deny that you had been an asset.

“Everything,” You grinned. “The air around us is beloved to us too. When the wind is strong, it lifts us. That is why it is so easy for us to live among the trees. We can be brought right up to the top where our homes are, thanks to a stiff breeze.”

“You mean-” he said, moving away from the column, and walking up to you, his expression baffled. “You can fly? The air can make you fly, like a bird, or a Nazgul-birds?”

“Yes,” You nodded, keeping a straight face. “You did not know this?”

“No!” He said, amazed. “Can you call on the wind? Can it take you wherever you want to go? Could you-”

Your straight face failed you. Your shoulders started to shake as you began to laugh. Unlike a lot of other elves, you had managed to have a sense of humor. Playing with the other races, this bit of mischief, was one of your favorite things about this whole adventure. “I’m sorry, Eomer. I was only telling tales. Although all of the elements are important to us, all have their uses, air does not help us to fly.”

“You almost had me there,” Eomer said with a chuckle. “We could have won the whole war if that was true. It would be done in seconds. Just fly over Mount Doom and drop the ring in.”

“Unfortunately, it cannot be so,” You sighed, and looked up at the stars once more. Even though you were in a different area, the stars were much the same as the ones you saw at home, and you could follow them like a straight path right on back if you so desired. “But there is still hope, written in the night skies. These stars, they’ll show Frodo and Sam the way, just as surely as they’ll show them the way back home.”

Galadriel had given Frollo the light of the star of Eärendil. They were already involved now.

“You see that, in the stars?" Eomer asked, his voice sounding incredulous. You didn’t blame him for not believing you. Men were … a lot more folly. They’d believe in Gods that they could not see, but they didn’t believe in the very lights in the sky that they could.

“As long as there are stars, Eomer, there is hope.”

You had spoken with your brother. He and Gimli were going to follow Aragorn through the passage in the mountains. The passage that would bring them either to a great success - a secret weapon of sorts - or deadly peril. But that was their choice to make, so you only wished them safety, and that you would see them again during the war. You weren’t going to join them. You felt like your place was here, more so with the people of Rohan. With Eomer, who you had grown close with over the journey. And Eowyn, whom you already thought of as a sister.

You had been walking back towards the speaking brother and sister, when you heard words that you didn’t quite agree with. And being the person that you were, you were going to say something about it.

“War is the province of men.”

“Men?” You questioned, making Eomer turn around. “No matter which way you mean it, whether gender, or race, you do not think that I am for battle? No - you must mean the gender, for you have had no problem fighting alongside elves, and dwarves.”

You had missed that he had been talking about Merry at first, though you were on Eowyn’s side in that argument as well. Just as you had every right to fight, as did Aragorn, Theoden, Eomer himself - Merry and Eowyn both had the ability to decide to fight. But right now, you were just defending Eowyn. And yourself.

“Though I don’t remember you having a problem fighting alongside me, either,” You spoke aloud, remembering the moment that you had caught eyes with him for the first time, while searching for Merry and Pippin. And then again during the battle for Helm’s Deep, when he realized that you were there, in the full swing of things, your armor stained with blood, cuts and bruises on your arms, just like everyone else. “So, it’s just your sister you’re coddling for the moment?”

“I am not coddling,” Eomer insisted, his eyes lit up by the reflection of the fire that he had been sitting near only a moment ago. “I’m explaining the way that things are. You - you are a valuable warrior; I will give you that but-”

“That should be in the end of your sentence,” you said, sharply. “You cannot respect me as a fighter, but disrespect your sister’s wish to be the same. She might not have the experience of war that you do, no, she does not have that. But she has the same amount of heart, the same determination, the same reasons to go into battle as you have. The only differences between you are what is in between your legs, and what expectations were put upon you by someone else.”

Eowyn looked surprised, and Eomer - he just looked stunned by your words. No one had dared to talk to him like that before. Especially not a woman. “I just don’t want her to get hurt,” Eomer finally said his real reason for thinking like this. There was something about you that made his heart go in front of his brain, in front of his reasoning. “I don’t want either of you to get hurt. But she,” He said, looking towards his sister, “-she is the future of Rohan. Eowyn, you are who everyone is going to follow if something happens to-”

The word went unspoken. The King. If something happened to Theoden, it would be Eowyn that would be in charge. She would be the Queen of Rohan, taking care of the survivors. Starting over again in the city after it had been ravaged by orcs.

“But - that is not a good enough reason,” Eowyn insisted. “I worry about you, about everyone that is going out there. My friends - my family - don’t I deserve to fight for them too?”

“But-” Eomer started, but then looked between the two of us, and he saw that he was going to lose this argument. It was two against one, and both of us were speaking logically - even though he had his own good reason nonetheless. Eowyn turned on her heel and walked back to her tent, most likely to practice her sword skills once more. You had caught her doing it before. Had even given her some advice on how to use her reach to her advantage.

You approached Eomer, and daringly, you put your hand on his shoulder. You were in close proximity to him. You could smell the stew on his breath, though this was not unpleasant. It was a hearty, human-type smell. His shoulder was large underneath the fabric that he wore, which had been made warm with his own body’s heat. His hair tickled at the back of your hand.

“You do have a good heart, Eomer, and she knows that you love her, and that you care. But restricting her, keeping her in a cage like a pretty bird, is not the way to do it. Nor, exactly, is trying to claim that only men should be in war. I took offense to that.”

“I apologize for offending you,” he said, his eyes intense. Beautifully bright while being lit like this. “But I have seen you in war. And you have had years of training for it, that much was clear. You’re very skilled,” he said, his hand reaching towards your waist now in a show that was as ostentatious, as audacious as your hand upon his shoulder. It brought you both closer together than before. “You’re like a dancer out there, when you fight, you make it look easy, while we both know that it is not.”

“It isn’t,” You agreed. You had trained for centuries to be as good as you were, against all manner of foe. “But is that not all the more reason to help her rather than dissuade her? You’re an excellent swordsman, Eomer. Only rivalled by your skills as a rider. She’s going to find a way to fight whether you accept this or not. Would you not do the same?”

Eomer groaned, his thick eyebrows furrowing as he was really listening to what you were saying. “I know my place -”

“So let her decide hers,” you said, firmly, your breath upon his chin now, close. “I will help her, if you do not. The last thing either of us want is for her to get hurt. So, relieve yourself of your stubborn nature for only a couple of days and allow me to do this. It will only benefit her.”

“Fine,” he said, gritting his teeth, his eyes drilling holes into yours. “You can teach her. But I cannot. I’ve got too much to do with the rest of the army, we’ve barely recovered from Helm’s Deep.”

“I understand. Leave it to me, Eomer,” you said, your voice hitting him like soft silk against his cheeks, cool but comforting. “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t lose anyone you love in this battle.”

“Including you?” He asked, without missing a beat. Your breath got caught inside your mouth, whatever words that you were thinking of saying next just rolling around on your tongue, but not escaping. You closed your lips for a second, as he looked on at you, nervous, anxious, earnest.

“Including me,” you said finally with a curt nod. He breathed out in relief, the smell of ale tickling your nose. He pressed a soft kiss onto your forehead, the first sort of affection like this that you had, and then left you to talk to his sister about what was going to happen going forward.

The battle was won, though there were great losses all around. You had not been able to keep your promise to him, for he had ended up losing someone that he loved. His own uncle. Your heart broke for him when he had found his uncle’s corpse, Eowyn bent over it, crying, Merry standing there with tears down his own face. The sound that Eomer had let out sounded more pained than anything you had ever heard before. Like he was the one who was dying.

You knelt down on Eomer’s other side and you rested your hand on his back, over his armor. He could not feel your touch, but he could feel your presence, and that had to be enough for now. “I’m sure he fought valiantly until the last,” You spoke, looking at the still noble face of Theoden, King of Rohan.

“He did,” Merry said with a nod, the sob very evident in his voice. “He surely did, my Lady.”

You did little to try to stop the crying of those around you. You only offered a hand to Eowyn, your closeness to Eomer, and your great respect to the little hobbit who was also trying to keep things together through his own grief. The latter had gone to try to find his friends, to find Pippin, no doubt, and you wished him the best of luck as he went. You did not go searching - you stayed put, feeling a familiar sense that your own brother was still alive, wherever on the battlefield he was.

Time went on. Fallen warriors were identified by the living, and were loaded onto carts, respectfully, to be carried back home to be buried. The King was given special treatment of course, being overseen by Eomer and Eowyn, as well as Aragorn himself. You and Eowyn had picked flowers to lay across his body for transport, signs of love, signs of respect. And you rode with Eomer, the first woman to ever ride upon his horse with him, holding onto his waist from behind.

Your own feelings were divided between grief and love. It was easy for the two to mix together, to combine into something bittersweet. As you rested your head upon the back of his shoulder as his steed, Firefoot, trotted beneath you, transporting Theoden back, you had a lot of thinking to do. The idea of leaving Eomer made your heart ache painfully, something you had never felt before. You knew what this unfamiliar feeling was - it was love. But there was a divide between you two - your races, your lives. He was human, his life was fleeting, he was aging before your very eyes and would soon be the age his uncle was when he died, and then older, and older, until death would greet him, hopefully peacefully.

The war wasn’t over. Once you reached Rohan, word was coming that Aragorn was planning on bringing as many troops as would come to Mordor. For Frodo, to give him time, to destroy the ring and the evil that came with it. There has not been much news of the hobbit, but there was still hope that he was out there. That he was close to achieving the end-goal.

“Will you ride?” You asked Eomer. His eyes set upon you as they did many times before, darkened by the sorrow but with a bright, determined light still within.

“I will,” he said. “I need to see this war out to the end. Do what my uncle could not.”

You nodded, understanding him. He was preparing for a night of rest in his own room once more before the ride back to Minas Tirith to meet up with Aragorn and his army. He removed his helmet, his hair falling down around his shoulders, braided still from before the battle. You moved towards him, your fingers running through the strands, shiny with sweat and oils. “I will be coming too.”

“And there is no way I can talk you out of it?” Eomer asked, looking into your eyes, licking his chapped lips. “No way to convince you to stay here, and wait for me?”

“It would be like asking the sun to wait to rise,” You admitted, moving to cup his cheek instead, his bristly facial hair rough against the smoothness of your hand. “It is in my nature to go where I am needed, and that is where I feel I must be. Fighting with my friends. With my brother.” You paused for a moment. “With my love.”

The corner of his lips went up into a smile at his admission, before quickly going back down again. “And - if I lose you?”

“Then that’s the path that fate had set us down upon,” You spoke. “It would be only too easy to stray, to find a way to another path without the potential of that hurt - but I want to remain on this one and take that chance. I want to be with you, as human as you are.”

His lips met yours quicker than you could have imagined, as if he was as swift as an elf. You closed your eyes and melted against him, feeling yourself growing rather than shrinking into this feeling. It was distressing, how fast your heart was beating inside of your chest for a man that you would only be able to hold onto for a short time. That divide - it was like the distance between two stars up there in the night sky. Further apart than one could feasibly imagine. And yet - you were both part of the same constellation regardless. Connected by a single link, and that was your feelings for one another. Whatever this final battle brought on, you’d hold onto that link, and use it to make yourself stronger, like how adding strands to a braided rope made it stronger. And you’d use it to your advantage.

For Frodo.

And for your future, as long as it may be, as much strife and loneliness might come upon it later, you would enjoy these moments of passion, of romance and of Eomer, and make each moment stretch to feel as if it lasts forever.

[princessofgondor]

the lord of the rings characters + cuddling with them 🩷

Characters Included: Boromir, Faramir, Aragorn, Arwen, Éowyn, Éomer, Legolas, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry

I decided I wanted to try doing some LOTR preferences! This is my first time writing for all of these characters besides Boromir so I’m still getting a handle on them. If anyone has any requests for preference posts they’d like to see, please send them my way and I’ll see what I can do!!

Author has only seen the movies, so please forgive any mistakes/inaccuracies!

Boromir is definitely pretty touch-starved, and after cuddling with you for the first time he’s very surprised how much he loves it. It becomes a common occurrence for the two of you, something he looks forward to — especially after a long day of training with his soldiers. He loves being the big spoon, and burying his face in your hair or your neck.

Faramir is a big cuddler for sure. You don’t even need to ask — as soon as you rest your head on his shoulder (when you’re sitting together) or on his chest (when you’re laying down together), he’s got his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. He gives you a lot of forehead kisses when you’re cuddling together.

Aragorn loves the moments where the two of you can just relax together, especially when things are getting stressful. He’s happy for the two of you to simply lay there in silence, holding each other, but if you need to talk about anything he’s always ready to listen.

Arwen has an incredibly calming presence, and cuddling with her can improve your mood no matter how bad you were feeling beforehand. She holds you close, whispering comforting words in your ear and pressing gentle kisses to your face and lips every so often.

Éowyn isn’t used to cuddling, but like Boromir she comes to really enjoy it. You make her feel peaceful and happy in a way that she’s never experienced before, and so she loves to be close to you as often as possible. She has a tendency to play with your hair, and she likes it when you do the same to her.

At first, Éomer tries to look tough and doesn’t admit how much he likes cuddling with you. But each time, it becomes increasingly obvious how much he loves it. Similar to Éowyn, he likes it when you play with his hair.

Legolas finds it adorable how much you love to cuddle with him, especially when you get cold. As an Elf he can’t feel the cold, but he can always tell that the temperature is dropping when you cuddle up to him. He’s perfectly happy to stay bundled up with you for as long as you need him there.

Frodo loves when the two of you cuddle up while reading a book together, though sometimes he gets distracted from the words on the page because he’s looking at you. If this is after the main events of LOTR, I could see your presence/touch being able to help Frodo heal from his traumatic experiences, at least somewhat.

Sam is incredibly affectionate, so he definitely loves cuddling. He’s a bit shy about it at first, getting a bit embarrassed and not knowing what he should be doing — like where should his arms/hands be? He doesn’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable — but once he’s used to it, it’s his favourite thing in the world.

Pippin absolutely loves cuddling with you and he doesn’t care who knows it. Honestly, if he could spend his entire life cuddled up with you and some snacks then he’d be the happiest Hobbit who ever lived. It doesn’t matter where you are, if you’re near each other he’ll want to either have his arms around you or be resting against you.

I think that like Pippin, Merry loves cuddling, but he’s a little less likely to do it publicly. When it’s just the two of you however he loves nothing more than being close to you. He probably makes little jokes and lightly teases you for being so eager to cuddle with him, but it’s all very light-hearted and you know that he loves it too.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Characters who will tell you to use them while you ride them

[sorcerousundries]

If you're taking requests, could you please write something about which Lotr and The Hobbit characters would be most attracted to a reader who's really intelligent and good at debating them? Like I'm picturing a sort of Rivals to Lovers dynamic where the reader is super smart and really good at arguing their points, but I'm curious which Tolkien characters you think would be most into that type of partner 🤔

I can totally picture Eomer falling for a person like that because he honestly seems perfect for Enemies to Lovers arcs, but tldr what Tolkien characters do you think would be most attracted to a super intelligent person who could debate them into the dirt? Thanks!

I have been alone all my life but with the compensations of intellect.

Lord of the rings and The hobbit characters react to an intelligent reader

Warnings: none

Includes: Elrond, Thranduil, Gimli and Éomer

A/n: thank you for your request <3

Content under the cut

Elrond — Friends to lovers

You and Elrond would meet in a fairly formal setting, maybe during a business gathering or a dinner of sorts.

You would be chatting with some high noble who would introduce you to lord Elrond and the two of you clicked immediately.

He would often invite you for tea and insist you stay for dinner, maybe offering you a bed as the hour gets later.

He is knowledgeable about history, lore and the affairs between both men and elves alike, he would likely be drawn to someone he can engage deeply in discussions of middle earths past, present and future.

The debates between you and lord Elrond would be competitive but friendly, if he lost he would shrug it off, the pinnacle of healthy masculinity. If he won, he wouldn’t care, maybe tease you if your friendship started to grow closer but never in a cruel, condescending way.

He would grow feelings slowly yet steadily, he would never force himself on you but he couldn’t deny the flutter of his heart whenever you’d smirk triumphantly as besting him during a debate of which medicine would be best to use for a rope burn, the simple action making his heart warm.

As your relationship turns romantic your playful banter wouldn’t stop, it would only grow, turning into silly debates before bed as you two move in chorus around the bedroom, performing your separate night routines though you’d never allow the room to grow silent as you chat about whatever topic comes to mind.

Overall he’d enjoy having a partner that he could chat away with, it’s rare that he finds someone who equals his intelligence, let alone best it.

Thranduil — Shared traumas

Thranduil would likely already be acquainted with you, after all the king knows everything that happens in his kingdom.

Though he only started to cultivate a relationship with you when you outwitted him in his own throne room, for the first time a millennium the king of the woodland realm was left speechless, you intrigued him, instead of sending you away he invited you to join him in his study.

The debates between you two would be filled with romantic tension, heated discussions would be filled with you leaned so forward your nose would also my be touching his, as you did something that countered his you would pull back, thoughts of how his eyes would dart down to your lips so quick you almost didn’t see it would flood your brain.

He would love discussing battle strategies and such, even better if an elf and you saw the battle for yourself.

Nothing pleases him more than falling back on you when he doubts his leadership skills, after having to listen to courtiers and advisors drone on about their ideas and excuses, he can go to and simply sit across the room as you answer his questions logically, not even looking up from your book.

Your relationship would start to turn romantic when he confided in you about his troubles, his worries for his son, even telling you about the death of his wife.

And who knows, maybe he’ll pull you in for a kiss before you turn in for the night.

Gimli — opposites attract

Gimli would first see you at the court of Elrond, during the forming of the fellowship.

He never thought his heart would lurch from his chest when he saw an elf sitting at lord Elrond side, chin held high and regal.

Not even his admiration for lady Galadriel could compare to the way his heart jumped at the sight of you.

While he’s not typically seen as a debater, Gimli has a strong sense of pride surrounding his culture and way of life, he would be drawn to someone who can engage in conversation about dwarven history and culture with him.

He would hold an immense level of respect for you, often coming to you to double check any technical blueprints or a different perspective if he’s struggling to visualise how something would come together. He would appreciate someone who can offer unbiased opinions not swayed by any existing rivalry between elves and dwarves.

Any debates with him would lively and high spirited,he would engage enthusiastically defending his views with passion and light hearted humour, your discussions could range from history and craftsmanship to the simple differences between elves and dwarves.

He would let out a small “oh!” As you kiss him on the cheek, nodding him a farewell after helping him find scrolls about an ancient smithing technique, his smile turning his eyes into slights as he pumps his fist once you’ve turned your back.

Eomer — Enemies to lovers

Eomer would find your intelligence intriguing and infuriating at the same time.

His warrior ideals and loyalty to Rohan would initially clash with your more logical approach to things, your debates would arise over strategies in battle most likely.

Early on in your relationship, misunderstandings were the main fuel to your bitter relationship. Your critical views on his leadership or warfare would be interpreted as disrespect, driving a wedge between you two.

But as the power of Sauron grows, you’re forced to put your differences aside.

He would begrudgingly admit that you’re actually very useful in a fight, offering new ideas that contrast his own.

However one night as your both sat around the fire, when every other solider has turned in for the night, he might open up, revealing to you his fears about not being a good leader, you in turn offer him insights and philosophical perspectives that resonate with him.

He thinks about the conversation when he nods silently before sauntering off to his tent, laying in bed staring up at the white linen cloth of his tent, the words he forgets as he slowly realises he in-fact wasn’t listening to your words, instead focusing on the curve of your lips and the brush of your eyelashes against your cheeks every time you blinked, the way your eyes gleamed as the fire crackled.

He frowns as the words “oh shit, I’m in love with them” echoed in his inner monologue.

He doesn’t tell you through words rather showing you, right before the rohirrims marched to Gondor he would give you heated kiss, displaying not his passion as a warrior, but as a lover.