#eomer x y/n fanfiction

[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.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Blessing - Eomer X Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sensing his hesitation, you pressed on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[absentmindeduniverse]

Much Ado About Nothing you say?

It did things to me this whole story. It felt tender and soft and pretty. Thank you for that 😊.

Alive & Alight

Request/prompt from @tolkien-fantasy: Aragorn or Eomer x Reader but the reader is a disabled girl who can't ride horses because of her illnesses, so she becomes a leatherworker who makes saddles instead because that's the closest she can get to working with horses. She gets commissioned by Elrond/Theoden to make Brego or Hasufel a saddle and they fall head over heels for her.

A/N: It's... finally here... idk why I even try to limit myself to <3k words when things just always overflow. I tried to keep the disability vague, and based it on my understanding from a relation of mine. If anything comes off as problematic, please lmk. Hope you all enjoy it!

Eomer x disabled!Reader

Fem reader

Content warnings: Non-graphic/detailed mentions of chronic pain

5.5k words

---

The evening sun streamed through the windows into the workshop, casting long rectangles of orange across the workbenches. The sweet, earthy scent of leather lingered in the air above the sharp tang of metal. You rocked the head knife, slicing through the buttery leather. Pain shot through your body and the blade clattered to the table. 

Across the room, Deormund looked up from his work, a frown on his face. His dark blonde hair was pulled up in a haphazard bun and stray strands brushed the top of his shoulders. He was burly and stout, but his brown eyes were gentle. “Girl, are you hurting again?”

“I’m alright, sir.” You stretched and shifted in your seat. “I just want to get started on this saddle before we finish for today.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and shook his head. “You’ve had enough.”

“But—”

“There is no nobility in unnecessary suffering, girl.” He laid his awl down and crossed the room. “Come, you should rest.” He ushered you over to a small table in the corner and lifted the cloth covering a basket of bread. “I’ll finish up the cutting.”

You tore off a piece of bread and stared out the window. Horses trotted by, their heads bobbing and their tails flicking. How beautiful they were, with their braided manes and glossy coats. You eyed the riders, just some simple merchants riding back to their villages, and your chest tightened. If only you were able to ride, if only your body did not ache so. 

Your eyes wandered to the plains just visible through the thatched roofs. Oh, to ride unhindered through the grass, to feel the sting of the wind, to go wherever your heart desired. You sighed and comforted yourself with the knowledge that you still had the pleasure of working with horses in your craft. You could make them beautiful saddles, comfortable for both animal and rider, could see your work on the backs of the most noble horses.

Voices approached the workshop and your eyes drifted to the entrance.

“Uncle, this is unnecessary.”

“Eomer, it is time for a new saddle.”

“I do not see what is wrong with my own.”

“It is… plain. Future kings do not ride on unadorned saddles.”

Your eyes met your mentor’s and your heart sped up. The prince and the king? You tossed the half eaten bread back in the basket and replaced the cloth just as they entered the workshop. They were dressed in their formal tunics, the gold embellishments glinting against the rich green velvet. Theoden was grinning, but Eomer’s lips were pressed in a hard line. 

“Your highness,” Deormund tugged his dirty apron off and bowed deeply. 

You forced yourself to stand, wincing as you did so. You managed a short curtsey before the dull throb of pain began to grow. 

Theoden gestured at the rickety chair. “Please, sit. I understand that you suffer from an illness.”

Eomer’s eyes drifted over to you and your breath hitched in your throat. He seemed to fill the room in a way that was not evident when you saw him from afar. He was tall, taller than his uncle, and his broad frame seemed to make the room smaller. His gaze fixed you where you stood and for a moment all you could do was stare back into his hazel eyes.

You glanced away, willing your heart to slow, as you lowered yourself back down.

What were they doing at the workshop? It was rare of the king and his family to personally visit merchants and craftsmen. Was it the saddle you had made for one of the Marshals of the Riddermark? Were they dissatisfied? Your fingers twitched on your lap, wishing you had one of your tools to fiddle with. 

“I’ve come to convince my nephew to have a new saddle made.” Theoden shot a look at Eomer. “I thought perhaps if he saw the level of craftsmanship that went into the saddles you make he would be won over.”

Deormund nodded and walked over to the bench where the half-finished saddles sat. “These are all hand-carved by our young lady over there.”

Eomer’s eyes met yours again, intense but with a spark of curiosity in them. He joined Deormund by the bench and cast his eyes over the saddles. You fidgeted with your thin apron. Would they be to his liking? To have one of your saddles on the horse of the prince, the future king of Rohan… It would be an honour of the highest regard, one of the greatest compliments to your work and skill. You swallowed as you watched his face. 

His brows slowly relaxed and his jaw loosened. He reached a hand out and traced the ridges and grooves of the pattern. “These tell a story,” he muttered, voice full of wonder. “A woman’s journey across the plains, an encounter with another, injured. Caring, healing, building a home together.” He looked at the next one. “And this, of a young boy and his father, from travelling merchants to wealthy shop owners.”

His eyes cut to yours and you nodded. “Horses are the centre of our people. I wanted to pay homage to the way they serve us, the way we work with them. They carry more than just our bodies on their backs, they carry our lives, our stories.”

He held your gaze, his hazel eyes alight with something you could not name. 

“Alright,” he said, eyes never wavering from you. “A new saddle, I’ll agree to it. But only if it’s you.”

-

Eomer paced his rooms, a frown on his face and his hands behind his back. Candles burned around the space, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air was filled with Eowyn’s perfume, lavender and some Gondorian flower he could not place, and under that, something familiar and comforting that reminded him of their parents.

The last few days had brought back memories he did not know he had.

He had spoken to you about his life as part of your work for the saddle. The memories and stories had come slow and stilted at first, but encouraged by your soft eyes and smiles, they began to unspool and unfurl. His mother’s hands covering his as they stroked the horse, his father’s booming voice as he acted bedtime stories out, racing Eowyn on ponies across the fields. 

You had sat there, hands folded on your lap, still and attentive, listening. Once again, he had been struck by how beautiful you were. When he had walked into the workshop and set eyes on you, his stomach had fluttered and flipped. Framed by the window, illuminated by the evening sun, you looked glorious, at home among the leather and tools. 

“Daydreaming again, brother?” Eowyn said as she walked into the room and settled on the cushioned bench. 

He clicked his tongue at her. “Do not tease me so. I was not daydreaming, I was… thinking.”

Eowyn snickered. “About the young lady who makes the saddles?”

His cheeks burned and he turned away from his sister. “She is… intriguing.”

“How so?”

“Have you seen her work? It is a marvel how she manages to bring stories to life on the leather. Her carving is so intricate, it is nearly unbelievable.” He spun to face her. “And when she speaks of her work, she comes alive, shines almost, like the Entwash on a summer’s day. And when she smiles, I —”

His sister laughed. “Brother, I dare say you are smitten.”

He grumbled and looked out of the window. Could anyone fault him, truly? He was surprised there was not a line of suitors lingering outside the workshop or your home. 

Homes and shops dotted the hill of Edoras, flowing down from Meduseld. Little squares of light vanished into the distance and darkness and he gazed out wondering which one of those squares might have been yours. Were you whiling your evening away on your own, or was there another beside you, holding your hand, enjoying your smiles?

His stomach clenched strangely at that thought and he whirled around to face Eowyn. “How goes your project with the healing houses?”

“Well enough. The building you have allotted us is more than sufficient. Our apothecaries are not as well stocked, but the women are well trained.” Her eyes softened with understanding. “Uncle has told me she suffers from a chronic hurt. There is not much we can do, but I will be able to brew a tonic to ease the pain a little.”

“I would be most grateful,” he muttered. He sighed and joined his sister on the bench. “I am seeing her again in a few days. She has sketched out a design, I think. She wishes for me to look over it.” 

“Are you nervous to see her?”

He scowled at her. “I am not nervous. I am simply… eager to see what she has come up with.”

“And I suppose your now regularly washed and oiled hair has no relation to your meetings with her?” Eowyn bit back a smile.

Eomer’s eyes darted back to the window. “Nothing at all.”

-

The late afternoon sun poured over Edoras and the thatched roofs below you gleamed gold. A cool wind swept through the small garden, tossing your hair and tickling the back of your neck. You leaned back against the cushions spread on the stone bench, idly playing with the glass vial he had given you, while he looked over your sketch.

“I feel as though something is missing,” he muttered. “Here, in the later sections.”

You leaned over and peered at the sheets of paper. It depicted the victory at the Black Gate, his reunion with a healed Eowyn, his return back to Edoras. The last panel showed him with his uncle and sister, standing in front of The Golden Hall.“I have never been to Gondor or seen Minas Tirith. Is there something wrong with the way I’ve drawn them?”

“I am not sure. Perhaps there is some part else that also needs to be included.” He handed the parchment back to you. “But the earlier panels are perfect. My parents, my family… you have brought their memory alive.”

You gave him a smile as your fingers tightened around the paper. You looked at the figurines, at the vistas and buildings you had drawn. “I can start on the first few sections. Then perhaps in time what is missing will come to you.”

“May I keep them? Reviewing them might help, I think. And I can show Eowyn as well.” You nodded and he rolled the papers up.

He hummed and looked out at the fields. You followed his gaze and tried not to focus on how his knee was pressed against yours. You could feel the warmth coming off him, could smell his scent of leather and sandalwood.

You thought back to the last couple of weeks, to the hours spent talking to him. There was a fire to Eomer, a passion that seemed to overflow from him, and when he told his stories, he told them with a fervour that roused your spirit. It was no wonder then, that he was one of the Marshals of the Riddermark, no wonder how so many were willing to leave with him when he was exiled. 

But there was also a softness to him, a tenderness underneath it all. In the quiet of the evening, by the light of the fire, he had told you stories of his parents and his sister. How they used to terrorise the servants in the house, how they would spend time braiding each other’s hair, how their parents would take them around the villages and towns, acquainting them with their people.

It seemed that he drifted closer to you with each visit. The first time he had sat opposite you, his heavy desk like a wall between the both of you. But soon he sat in the next armchair over, and then some visits later he chose to share the cushioned bench by the window with you. The front of his knees would graze yours, or his hand would rest just a reach away.

You had heard from the gossiping maids at Meduseld that he was yet to find a partner. How was it possible that a man like him did not have countless betrothal offers and arrangements? For a time it seemed as though there were always princesses or noble ladies coming to visit Edoras, especially after Eowyn’s marriage to Faramir.

They were all regal and graceful and soft.

Eomer cleared his throat and turned back to you. “My lady, I was wondering if you had some time to spare after this.”

“I do. Would you like to discuss the design more? Or maybe look over the different leathers that we have?”

“No, ah, I was hoping you’d like to join me for dinner.” His cheeks tinged pink. 

“Dinner?” Your finger tightened around the vial. What a strange thing to ask of you. It was not very common for the royal family to invite mere craftsmen and merchants for dinner. Perhaps he was just being polite since the evening was drawing near and he had taken up any time you would have had to prepare a meal.

It had been a long day; carving in the morning and sketching in the afternoon. Your body ached, and you longed for some rest. But Eomer’s eyes were so wide and hopeful, his slight smile so shy and boyish. “I… Um…”

“I understand if perhaps, I am aware you have been quite busy today, if another evening, or morning, would suit you better…”

You smiled at him. “Perhaps in a day or two? I am quite weary today.”

“Of course, of course.” He nodded, a smile growing on his face. “Simply let me know and I shall clear my schedule.”

-

Eomer fiddled with the reins in his hand as the carriage moved towards the small grove by the Snowbourn. There was still an hour or two before sunset and the river glittered in the strong sun. The air was cool and carried the fresh scent of dirt and grass, and subtly, from you just beside him, a smell of cloves from the balm you used on your muscles and joints.

It had been over a week since he last saw you. Your message had come the day after he saw you, deferring the dinner invitation, citing some urgent work that had come up, and he had been left anxious that you had changed your mind. He nearly drove Eowyn mad with his questions and doubts, and more than once she had chased him out of Edoras, telling him to go for a long ride. 

But then your message had come a few mornings later, and he was left scrambling to prepare what he had envisioned in his mind. You had mentioned before how much you adored horses and how much you wished you could ride. It had been some months since you were last out of the city, when you and Deormund went to source some leather from the neighbouring town. 

He had made certain to load the carriage seat with cushions, to bring a basket of fresh berries and cheese, to plan a path near enough to the city should you wish to return, but far enough that his horse could run unhindered. Everything to make you comfortable, everything just so he could spend some time with you away from the chatter and noise of Edoras.

Just you and him, alone. 

He froze in his seat. Was it not proper to do such a thing? Was there some parent he needed to ask permission from? Or even then, were you willing to be alone with him in such a setting? Arda, he should have thought about it more, but from the moment you had accepted his invitation that afternoon his mind had run away with plans and ideas. 

He fought the urge to glance at you beside him. Did you simply accept his plan because he was a prince? Perhaps you did not actually wish to come out with him, perhaps you simply felt obliged. Eowyn has berated him more than once about his forwardness and rashness. Perhaps he had overstepped without even realising. 

“My lord?” you asked, and he allowed his eyes to dart to you. “Is anything the matter? You have gone stiff and quiet.”

“I was simply thinking.”

“What troubles you?”

He tugged on the reins and slowed the carriage to a halt. He turned in the narrow seat to face you. “My lady, do you truly wish to be here?” You frowned but he continued. “I do not wish for you to feel obligated to… to… accept my invitations simply because I am a prince. I would not wish to —”

You reached for his hand but your fingers curled away. You shook your head. “I feel no such thing. I assure you, I… I do wish to be here.”

His heart sped up. “Well, I am… yes, I… I am glad to hear it.”

“Now, let us go. I wish to stop by the river.” You grinned at him and his chest loosened. “But perhaps… we could go faster?” Your smile turned shy and you glanced away. “I relish the rush of wind in my face, the sight of the land hurtling by.”

“Then perhaps you should take the reins.” The worn leather sat in his open palm. 

You reached out, your fingertips grazing his skin, delicate and feather-light. Your hand curled around the reigns and your smile turned sly. “Are you certain? Deormund never lets me with the reins for fear of his life.”

He laughed. “My lady, I have much experience with Eowyn’s wild steering. I beg you, do not hold back. Go as fast as you please.”

You tugged on the reins and clicked your tongue, and before he knew it, he was thrown back in his seat as you laughed above the roaring wind. 

-

You knocked the mallet against the decorative stamp, shifting ever so slightly across the smooth leather. Mountains materialised over the plains, rising above the ocean of grass. You sighed, thinking about the evening out with Eomer racing wild across the fields. It had been exhilarating, the trundle of the carriage, nearly flying with the speed of Firefoot. And afterwards, windswept and giddy, he had taken you home. 

You thought of how he lingered in the low light of the lantern hanging by your front door, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed. How he wished you goodnight, his voice low and his gaze alight with something you had not seen in his eyes before.

“Girl,” Deormund said, and you looked up. He glanced away and down at the piece of leather he was working on and fiddled with his knife. “It might not be my place to ask, but that boy…”

“You mean… the prince?”

“Yes. That boy.” He grumbled something under his breath. “Listen child, I am not one for gossip and rumours but even I cannot escape the words flying around Edoras at the moment.”

You flushed a little and glanced away. Deormund was the closest thing you had to a parent, and the weight of his words caused your stomach to turn. Did he disapprove in some way? Was it perhaps affecting the business? “Is something the matter?”

He cleared his throat and you hazarded a glance at him. His face was impassive but his eyes were concerned. “Do you truly care for him?”

Your fingers traced the outlines on the leather idly. “Yes. He is a good friend to me.”

“A friend…?”

You sighed and threw your hands up. “Yes, a friend. I do not know why you prod and poke me so. You are a practical man, sir. Of all people I’m certain that you understand that he and I will be nothing more than friends.”

Your chest tightened as the words left your mouth, the reality of it suddenly tangible in the air. You deflated in your chair, body protesting at the sudden movement from before. 

“Girl —”

You shook your head. “There is no use in it. I know the work we do is important, held in high esteem even, but we are still craftsmen. And craftsmen are not equal to princes. Eomer will find another, and she will make a fine queen for him one day.”

You looked at the panel you were working on. It was one of the last ones, and after the saddle was finished, there was no reason for you and him to keep meeting. Yes, Eomer will find someone else, and all that will be left for you will be the ghost of the memories. Would he bring her into the workshop and commission a saddle for her? Will you have to watch as he gazed upon her with love in his eyes?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to push you. It is just… You have seen happier these past few weeks. I thought perhaps I would have to find a new apprentice.”

A new apprentice, of course. Even if Eomer did return your feelings, what of your work? Leather carving was not the work of a queen; there would be no doubt that you would have to give it up. But to sit in hallowed rooms, silent and still, forever staring out at the plains, what sort of life would that be? 

You looked around the workshop. It was home, was it not? The worn wooden work tables, the comforting scent of leather, the tools that fit so perfectly in the palm of your hand. 

Tears stung at your eyes and you blinked them away. “Do not worry, sir. There will be no need for that.”

-

Firefoot galloped at full speed. The grass underneath Eomer was nothing but a blur of green. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and dampened the collar of his tunic. His heart pounded in time with his ragged breaths and he tensed his thighs, urging Firefoot to go faster. 

“Enough!” Eowyn shouted as she caught up to him. “Brother, enough!”

He glanced at her. Her hair was wild, streaming with the wind, and her eyes were cold and angry. She was braced on her saddle and he knew she was ready to speed ahead and round her horse to cut him off if he did not heed her words. 

He tugged on the reins and Firefoot began to slow.

“You’re going to run the horses ragged.” She huffed and shook her head. “What is the matter with you?” The horses slowed to a comfortable trot and she drew close to him. “You have been ill-tempered this whole week. Even uncle does not dare to be near you.”

“It is nothing.” He let out a sharp exhale.

“It is that carver, is it not?”

Eomer glanced at his sister. Her gaze had warmed into something soft and sympathetic. He sagged in his saddle and sighed. “Yes. I had thought perhaps… She seemed to like my company, even said so herself. And yet this whole week all of my invitations have been declined.

“She is well within her rights to do so. I am aware she does not owe me anything, but it does… sting somewhat. I do not know if I did anything wrong, if at all. I know there has been gossip circulating. Perhaps she became aware of my feelings and was frightened away? I do not know, and it drives me to madness.”

“Maybe her pain has worsened this week. She simply may not have the capacity to see you.”

“I know,” he groaned. “But in the past she has told me if that is the case. More than once she had rescheduled our earlier meetings. It is unlike her to be so reticent. Maybe I have just been mistaken about her feelings towards me.”

He stared at the horizon wishing he could just ride and ride and ride.

He had never been in love before, not properly at least. There had been little infatuations, charming women who turned his head, but nothing like the feeling that had now rooted itself inside his heart. How was he to love another when you existed in the world? 

Despite himself, he had wandered down to the workshop the day before, just to catch a glimpse of you. He saw you through the window, hunched over the table, working on the saddle. How beautiful you were, your brows creased in concentration, your hands steady and skilled. And when you had laughed at something Deormund said, it took all his willpower not to sweep into the workshop and pull you into his arms. 

He sighed and tipped his head back to catch the cool wind. “The saddle will be finished soon. I will not have any excuses to see her anymore, and perhaps that is for the best. It would be too painful to be by her side and not have her. And she does not need to be burdened with my unwanted feelings.”

Eowyn arched an eyebrow. “Are you certain your feelings are unwanted?”

“I think this past week is evidence of it.”

“It is evidence that perhaps she is… avoiding you. But maybe not for the reasons you think.” She gave a laugh, slightly pained and embarrassed. “When The Ring was destroyed and the sky cleared, there were a few days where Faramir kept his distance from me. He… He thought I would ride out to Cormallen to see Aragorn.”

He blinked at her. “You are suggesting that she is acting in a similar way? But I have not shown interest in anyone but her.”

“I am simply saying that you do not know her reasons for sure. It would do you both good, I think, to speak plainly.”

He nudged her foot with his and gave her a small smile. “I will miss you, sister, when you leave.”

She grinned at him. “We still have a couple weeks yet.”

-

You laid your tools down and swiped at the bead of sweat on your forehead. The second last panel was finished. It showed Eomer’s return to Edoras with his uncle and Eowyn, happy and victorious. You ran your fingers over his carved face and form, unable to stop the small smile from tugging at your lips even as your heart twinged.

Deormund walked over from his station and nodded at the saddle. “You did good work today, girl. Take the rest of the day off.”

You stretched and silently thanked Eowyn for her concoction; your muscles would certainly have been more achy without it. “Thank you, sir. Perhaps I will —”

A shadow darkened the entrance and both of you looked up. 

Eomer stood in the doorway, flushed and slightly out of breath. “Forgive my sudden intrusion. My lady, I wish to speak to you if you can spare the time.”

Your eyes darted from him to Deormund who simply inclined his head. “Is it important, my lord?”

“I would say so, yes. Perhaps we could walk just outside the city gates? But if you are not feeling up to it then —”

“I will go with you.” You stood and tried to slow your heart. It seemed that a week apart from him did not abate your feelings for him. If anything, the sight of him just made you long to be by his side even more. 

You bid Deormund farewell and followed Eomer out of the workshop. The walk down to the city gates was silent, though many openly stared as the both of you passed. You twisted your hands together and kept your gaze fixed on the plains beyond. 

As you passed through the gates, Eomer let out a breath and glanced at you. “Forgive me for taking you out here. I wished to speak to you without the risk of being overheard.” 

You nodded and the both of you paused a few paces from the main road. Simbelmynë waved in the breeze, the delicate blooms rippling where they dotted the barrows. The sun was low in the sky and orange spilled across the land. The end of day bustle and the neigh of horses was just audible through the open gate.

You cleared your throat. “What is it that warrants such a precaution?” You took a breath and readied yourself. Was he unhappy with the saddle so far? Had something terrible happened? Was he being sent away?

“My lady, I hope you will forgive me for being forward, but I simply must know.” He looked into your eyes, beseeching. “Have I offended you in some way? It has not escaped my notice how you have been avoiding me.”

You opened your mouth and then snapped it shut. How could you possibly tell him the truth? It would ruin what friendship you had with him. “I… You have not offended me, I assure you.”

“Then what is it?” He looked askance at you before his eyes trailed over to the barrows. “I know I have not hidden my affection for you well. That much is evident by all the rumours circulating. But if I have made you uncomfortable in any way, please let me know. I shall endeavour to rein myself in better.”

“Affection?” You gaped at him. “You…”

He gave an awkward chuckle. “Perhaps I have not been as blatant as I thought I was. Yes, I am quite fond of you. When you started declining my invitations I thought… Well, if you do not feel the same, please tell me now. I will bear you no grudge and we will never speak of it again.”

Eomer returned your feelings? Your heart fluttered but dropped the next moment. ���No, I…” Your voice came out strangled. “I can’t.”

His head snapped up, his hazel eyes intense. “You cannot? I do not understand.”

“My lord, I cannot give up my work.” You clenched your skirts in your fists. “I cannot, I will not sit idle and lonely in Meduseld forever removed from what I love so dearly. Not even for you.”

His frown deepened before his face cleared into what looked like relief. “Is that your only reservation?” 

You nodded and straightened, ready to counter any argument he may have. “It pains me to be apart from you, but it would hurt more should I never carve again.”

A wide grin split his face and he laughed. “I would ask no such thing of you. I have seen my own sister trapped in a gilded cage, withering and wilting. I would not place that on another.” His smile softened and he reached up, cupping your cheek. 

Blood rushed to your face and your eyes fluttered shut. Did you hear correctly? That you could have both Eomer and your work? You felt him step closer and his scent filled your nose. You peered up at him, nearly unable to bear the weight of his gaze. “But… I am not suited to be a princess, let alone a future queen.”

“I could not think of anyone better suited than you. It would be fitting, would it not? That the Queen of Rohan herself saddles the very horses of her people. I know your heart, I have seen it in your work. Your love and respect for our land, our stories, our people.”

“Eomer, I am not… But I am… But what if…”

“Peace,” he whispered, dipping his head as he tipped your chin back. “I will stop your mouth.” His lips hovered a hair’s breadth away from yours, waiting for your permission. 

You gave in to the pull of your heart and surged forward. His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed with a passion that left you lightheaded. He tugged you closer, pulling your body flushed against his, and sighed a little when your hand found its place on his firm chest. 

He drew back to catch his breath and he laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “By my troth, I love you as I live and breathe.”

You giggled, giddy and delighted. “Are you glad your uncle brought you to the workshop now?”

“I was glad the moment I laid eyes on you. Ah yes, this reminds me.” He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a creased piece of paper. He unfolded it to reveal the slightly smudged sketch of the final panel you had given him weeks ago. “I think I have discovered what was missing.”

“Hm?” You glanced at him then back at the paper, a little confused. The scene looked perfect, even Meduseld was accurate down to the patterns that decorated the arches.

“You, of course.” He gave you a fond exasperated look. “Arda, I have never met another so oblivious.”

“Oh.” You laughed and pressed your face into his chest. Your feet ached and you leaned a little bit harder on him. “Eomer, may we return now? I am quite weary.”

“Of course.” His smile turned mischievous. “Shall I carry you back?”

“Eomer, there is no need, I—” You shrieked and laughed as he picked you up, his arm under your knees and the other looped around your back. “People will talk.”

He kissed your cheek and started up the road. “Let them talk, then, and let news of their future queen spread.” 

---

The line Eomer says before he kisses you is from Much Ado About Nothing

Taglist: @sotwk

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Storm-clouds over the Riddermark

ʚ  Pairing:  Éomer x Fem. Reader

ʚ Word count: 3252 words

ʚ Summary:  Éomer coming back to the palace after a really bad day, takes his frustration out on you. He realizes his mistake and tries to make amends. 

ʚ Themes: Angst | Slow burn| Soft | Fluff |  Erotica | Smut

ʚ Warnings: Couple arguing | Explicit content of a sexual nature | penetrative sex | Minors DNI 

When inky-black clouds rolled over the Riddermark, it wasn’t to wet the soil with a light drizzle. Oh no. The deluge that followed battered the land like an angry beast, all sharp claws and teeth. Only a fool would see no harm in getting caught in such weather.

Éomer, Rohan's newly crowned king, did indeed consider himself a fool for having gone hunting when the storm threatened over the horizon. The hunt was a waste as the animals stayed away, visibility was poor, and by the time he reached the palace, he was soaked to the bone and his mood was fouler than the weather.

Everyone avoided him, believing that waiting till he calmed was best. Éomer knew this but was too miserable to even care. He was in desperate need of a hot bath and dry clothes. When he stormed into his bedroom, you were already there, perched in bed, reading a book.

That angered him for some reason. "By all means, read away."

Your eyes snap up in confusion. "Sweetheart? What’s gotten into you this afternoon?"

He stomped to a window and threw the rattling shutters open to the gale outside. "That."

The hell-storm outside and the ruined hunt. "The storm?" You put your book to one side and join him. "I’m sorry that your hunt got washed off, but if you--"

"Oh, so you noticed?"

His sarcastic and biting tone threw you off a little. "Actually, one of your riders came in before you and told me. I have --"

Éomer cut you off with an imperious wave of the hand. He'd get like this when the day didn't go well, and truth be told, it was starting to wear you down. "I'm not interested." His bad mood clogged up his better senses. "What I want to know is, why the devil were you in bed with that book when you should have been tending to me instead?"

Heat stirred in your eyes, then cooled as you pressed your lips together. "I'm trying to," you say, through clenched teeth. "You're not letting me." 

"Really?" There was that wave again. "Well, you could have fooled me."

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. It was always the same thing. Something irritated him, and you became the target of his frustrations."Why do you always do this?"

"Do what?" He said, pacing about impatiently, his mood only growing darker.

"This." You gesture at him. "Something vexes you, and you come back to take your frustrations out on me. It's hardly fair."

Éomer turned his head so fast you thought he’d get whiplash. "That’s because sometimes I feel you cannot be bothered to do any better!” His face had grown puce. "What more should I have expected anyway,” he muttered angrily, his words coming stumbling out of his mouth in a heated rush. . "You’re just a silly girl who prefers flowers and those ridiculous books of yours.”

His words stung and hurt your feelings. “I see. Well, thank you for making it plain to me.”

Éomer felt horrible when he realized what he said. "Y/n," He reached out regretfully when he saw your lips tremble. "Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to --"

"You’re right." Your back had gone rigid, the tears already stinging your eyes. "I’m just a silly girl who doesn’t know better. Your bath is in the next room, as are some dry clothes. A maid will you bring you something hot to eat." You curtsy, something you didn’t have to do. "I’ll leave you be. Your grace."

Before Éomer could get another word out, you had yanked open the door and fled. He muttered an oath and raked his fingers through his hair. He’d gone and done it now.

                                                     🍂🍂🍂

"What happened with y/n?"

That very night, while everyone had gathered for supper, Eowyn had noticed the tension between the two of you and wanted answers. 

"Nothing," Éomer muttered into his drink. While he was with his sister, you were talking to your ladies, laughing over some lark or the other. You had disguised your hurt feelings well, and he hated himself even more for it. Éomer wished you'd give him a round of proper telling off. Yelling and screaming. Insults. Anything would have been preferable to forced politeness.

Eowyn put her fork down and stared at her brother. "Don’t lie to me, Éomer. I know something is up. Now talk, or I’ll not leave you alone otherwise." 

He groaned, for his sister was right. She’d give him no peace till he told her everything. "Fine. Fine. This is what happened."

He sister looked utterly disappointed by the time he had finished. "Honestly, brother," she said through clenched teeth. "It’s times like these that I think you deserve a good smack to the back of your head!"

He looked at her in disbelief. "You think?" 

"Not think," Eowyn said, her eyes narrowing as she jabbed her fork at him. "In this case, I know you deserve it."

He scanned the people in the hall, hoping no one else had noticed the tension between him and his queen. It seemed like they hadn’t. "If it helps y/n feel a little better, will you do it?" 

Eowyn covered her mouth and tittered. "Don’t tempt me, for I might actually do it."

"Will you help me?" Éomer asked.

"To smack you on the head?" She struggled to look serious. "Of course, brother. Just tilt your head to an angle of your preference and stay perfectly still while I--"

"That’s not what I meant, and you know it!" He hissed, his eyes filled with desperation. "For heaven’s sake, sister, please, help me."

"Oh alright." Taking pity on him, Eowyn rolled her eyes and went back to eating. "Apologize to her. And mean it. No half-baked I’m sorrys. Y/n will only be offended by it and you’ll be worse off."

He nodded. "Anything else?" 

She speared a tiny potato and thought of what else her brother could do. "Spend more time with her if you haven’t been doing so already. Maybe have her sit with you at night when you go through your reports? I mean, y/n will have to learn anyway. What if you had to go to war and she was completely unprepared to be regent? Everyone will blame her if something goes wrong."

He had been rather neglectful of you, and war was still an inevitability, with bands of orcs still roaming between the realms. Leaving you unprepared for the role of regent could not only cause harm to the kingdom, but it could also cause long-lasting harm to his marriage, and that was the last thing Éomer wanted.

"And it will show y/n you trust her enough to help you," Eowyn added. "For now, though, start with that apology."

"Apologize. I think I can handle that," Éomer said, feeling upbeat for the first time since the morning.

"Try to remember that y/n is a human being and not one of those skittish horses in your stables." She said cheekily. "You can do that, yes?"

Éomer nearly choked. "You..." He glared and finished his drink. "I’ll be off."

He waited till you were alone before approaching you. "I... I would like to talk to you."

Still hurt by what he said, you stand there, passive, not saying or doing anything. The way you looked at him, with pained eyes, tore at his heart and made him feel like a slug. 

A hand was held out to you. "Please." 

There was something different in the way he spoke to you now, and it filled you with confusion. You could feel the eyes of others on you. Not wanting to create a scene in front of everyone, you take his hand and let him lead you back out into the hallway.

                                                          🍂🍂🍂

Éomer went over several apologies while the two of you walked back to your bedroom. He was stumped, because he hadn’t actually apologised to anyone since he slipped ink into his sister’s drink, and they were teenagers then. He shook his head, determined not to bungle it up.

You wait till he opened the door and let you in first. Unsure of what to expect, you stand near the fireplace and wait for him to speak.

"Y/n... sweetheart, I--I" Éomer groaned in frustration. Come on, man, you can do better than this!

You look on, stunned by this change in him. For the first time since your marriage, your husband looked unsure of himself.

Éomer took a deep breath and composed himself. "Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I--" His shoulders slumped in shame and he sighed. "I have been taking my anger out on you, and it was wrong of me. It was wrong of me, and I know it now. You treat me better than I deserve sometimes, and instead of appreciating you and everything you do for me, I lash out at you instead. I take my frustration out on you instead of finding better ways to deal with things that vex me, and I’m more sorry than I can say, for not treating you better. I hope... I pray... that I still have a chance to earn your forgiveness and be the husband you deserve, and that I haven’t gone and ruined things with you for good."

He seemed sincere to you, but you weren’t sure and your silence worried him.  

"I'm so sorry for my behavior," Éomer said, relieved that you didn't back away from him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry a thousand times. Sweetheart... Please... talk to me."

Tears pricked your eyes again. "You really hurt me, your grace."

He sighed and accepted his behaviour was wrong. "I know. And I won’t offer excuses. I-- I only want a chance to make amends."

"How?"

"Well," he said, and inched closer. "I want you to sit with me every night starting tomorrow while I go over reports and letters."

He had never asked you that before. Sometimes he’d shoo you away if he thought you disturbed him. "Why, your grace?"

"Because, as queen, you need to learn how this kingdom is run. I would be remiss in my duties as king if I left you unprepared. I would also like to spend more time with you. I’ve realised that I barely do so as it is." 

"Oh." Not only did Éomer want to spend more time with you, but he also wanted you to help him run the country. "I-- I'm not sure if I’m up to the task." 

"I think you’ll be more than fine." When he flashed that jaw dropping smile of his, your anger crumble to dust. You could never stay angry at him for long. “But, enough of politics for now. Why don’t we do something you like?”

“Well, I usually read when you’re busy. So.” You walk to a book rack and gesture to the many titles on display. “Maybe you could read to me? Something… silly… perhaps?”

He winced. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Hmm.” You tap your cheek and think. “Let me see. No.”

“You, madam, are just like my sister.” He sounded angry, but the humour in his eyes said otherwise.

“Really? All polished and sweet and incredibly charming?”

He smirked. “You are polished and sweet and incredibly charming. Alas, the same can’t be said for my sister. Alright. Pick out something you like, and I’ll read to you.”

It was past midnight when he finished. “That wasn’t bad actually.”

The rain had ceased briefly, the wind no longer howling like a living thing. “Will you go hunting tomorrow?” You make yourself comfortable in bed while Éomer put the book away.

He walked up to an open window and looked out into the night. The smell in the air convinced him that the next day would be washed out as well, and he had no interest in tramping about in foul weather again. He was fool enough to do it today.

“No.” He closed the window and came back to bed. “I’m not going out tomorrow. I think I’ll stay here, with you.”

He was so close to you, you could already feel the warmth coming off his body. “A lazy day in bed? What luxury.”

Éomer made himself comfortable and grabbed you in a bear hug, making you squeal. "Very luxurious." Éomer played with your hair, letting the strands pass through his fingers. "And it won't be lazy," he said, his eyes getting this gleam in them. "I plan on keeping you very busy."

He looked oh so innocent when you eyes rested on him. "Busy?" Your words were a challenge. "Just what kind of busy are we talking about here?"

Éomer looked like he was in deep thought. "A pleasant kind of busy," he said as he undid the sash on your dress. "Pleasant for me, and pleasant for you."

"Pleasant?" you tremble when you hear silk coming undone. "How pleasant are we talking about here?"

The king took on a pensive air again. "Very pleasant. And I mean," he leaned in and nibbled your ear. "Very pleasant."

"You're--" Your sigh sounded like a whisper. "You're trying to-- seduce me."

Éomer would have chuckled, had his lips not been busy on your earlobe. "Is it working?"

You wanted to say no, just to annoy him a little. Anything you wanted to say ended up flying out the window when his hand fell flat against your waist and went higher, not stopping till it reached the soft swell of your breasts. Flashes of heat pool in your belly as that hand cupped your breasts over the fabric. "Sweetheart..." 

Éomer didn't stop, switching up from touching to pinching. "Yes?" 

His breath felt hot and heavy against your cheek. His tongue still twirled around your earlobe while your own hands buried themselves in his hair, making him groan. "I want..." 

“Tell me," he growled this time, cupping your breast again and squeezing hard. "Tell me what you want." 

You could feel yourself crumbling to the demands of your body. "I--" you breathed. "I-- I want you inside me."

Clear grey eyes went dark as the slate grey clouds of the morning. "Get out of those clothes." Éomer worked on undressing himself. "Now." 

Everything ended up in a pile in no time, and there were a couple of rips when you helped him out of his shirt. "Oops." You hold up a torn sleeve and pretend to look remorseful.

Éomer chuckled as you tossed the ruins of his shirt to the floor. "I'll consider it a punishment for my earlier behavior."

Your eyes narrowed as you work on his belt buckle. "Oh, and what a punishment it is." 

Éomer kissed your shoulders while you toss his belt to the growing heap of clothes. "Yes." He sighed when warm palms pressed against his skin. "Truly terribl--"

He nearly collapsed on you when you took his cock into your hands. "Don't stop," he moaned and muttered after the first stroke. "Don't you dare stop."

Every stroke felt so good to him. Éomer hook his arms around your waist, his kisses turning into nips whenever you tighten your grip. This was a side to you he had never experienced before and he enjoyed every moment. 

"Someone is enjoying his punishment, I see." Your breath was coming out in pants and you trembled whenever his tongue ran over her skin. "Mmm." Éomer pulled your lips to his, his stomach twisting in knots when he felt the warmth of your body. "I am." He slipped out of his breeches and gently pushed you onto your back. "But it's not enough."

Your skin tingled when the mattress cushioned you and his weight came to bear down on you. While it was cold outside, the room grew only hotter. Beads of sweat forming over your skin proved too tempting and Éomer lowered his head taste.

"You feel so good," grunted Éomer when his lips latched onto a nipple, his teeth tugging hard and drawing out little gasps from you every time he did so. "So good."

Your chuckle was shallow and breathy. "Then I'm glad tomorrow's washed off as well, and you'll be home with me."

When he looked up, his eyes were as dark as sin now. "Oh really?"

"Really." Your arms drape around his shoulders when he moved back up. The thought of being holed up in this bedroom all day with you was enough to fill his mind with wild and woolly thoughts. "Well then," he mumbled between kisses. "We better get a head start tonight, eh?"

He teased you mercilesslly, rubbing his cock against your clit. The jolts that washed over you reduced you to a trembling mess. "Please," you beg.

 Éomer wanted you like putty in his hands, and kept playing with your clit. "Please what?"

Your pout made him grin wolfishly. "Please what, y/n?"

He wanted to make you beg. Well, that wasn't going to happend. With a low growl, you rear and kiss him, your legs hooking around his waist.  Éomer sighed, as if in surrender. "I take that as my answer, then," he groaned and pinned your hands over your head. When he covered your mouth with a hard, hungry kiss, you feel your body meld into his.  Éomer's eyes had grown cloudy with need. When the storm started to rage, he freed a hand and moved it over your body, not stopping till he had you hot and wet, and pleading for him to take you.

And take you he did. On the first flash of lightning, he lifted your hip and teased you, before pushing in slowly. Your abdomen trembled when he placed his hand on top of it, his eyes looking questioningly into yours. "Yes?"

You squirmed as your hands were still pinned. When you felt him move inside you, you were sure your orgasm was close. "Yes."

He felt so good as he pulled out, then pushed in, hard and fast and deep. This soul deep fiery need he stoked inside you made you arch your hips as his body slammed into yours, even as his were fixed on yours. When he bit down on your neck, you moan out, "Éomer."

That was all the encouragement Éomer needed. He released your hands and let you grip onto his back. Watching you shudder was intoxicating for him and he slammed into you, hitting that spot that made your eyes flutter and your fingers dig into his shoulders. On the next flash of lighting he went in deep, pushing you to your orgasm, moaning when he felt your body splinter and your walls clench around his cock. With one last satisfying thrust, he grunted deep as he spilled himself in you, his body shaking as he struggled to keep himself propped on his elbows. 

You feel sweat trickling down your skin as your breathing slowly returned to an even keel. Éomer gently lowered himself onto you, his kisses now soft and gentle, instead of hungry and passionate. It made you feel treasured, when he held you tight and showered you with sweet kisses. 

The storm raged on, but the two of you remained oblivious to it. "We're going to stay in here tomorrow." Éomer brushed a stray lock of hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear. 

"And what will we do while here?" You teased.

Éomer grinned. "I'll think of plenty of things. Don't you worry about it."

[adeliniel]

SFW alphabet | Eomer

Wow, it’s such an incredible feeling to finally finish something you’ve started so long ago!

Long time no see, dearests! Hope you all are doing great.

No promises and no expectations this time.

Just read, enjoy and feel good.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At first, Eomer is even ashamed that he fell in love with you, so he tries to avoid any public interactions and even pretends that he is not very happy to see you. However, when your relationship becomes more serious, he builds a completely opposite strategy, trying to protect you from the attacks of envious people. Eomer takes you everywhere with him and with subtle gestures shows others that you are his woman.

B = Body (Their favorite body part of their partner, why? Do they like touch?)  

Eomer adores your fingers. In his huge palm, your tender fingers seem so small and fragile. He could break them with one sharp squeeze, he knows it, and this paradox blows his head off. He likes to kiss each finger in turn, feeling your soft skin in front of his rough lips.

C = Courtship (What do they do to take your attention?)

At first, Eomer didn't even want to try to invite you on a date or confess his feelings. After all, he knew that he spent most of his time on military campaigns, and he thought you wouldn't want to wait. However, you began to spend a lot of time together when he was in Edoras, and rumors that you are now together spread faster than Eomer managed to make an official confession.

D = Domestic (Are they the type to settle down with you? Are they willing to help with chores? What is your daily routine with them?)

Yes, Eomer dreams of one day being able to leave the service and you (along with your future children) moving to a calmer and quieter place. However, today he can not accept the fact that you refuse to officially move to the palace and live in its rooms. Because he only feels at home where you two are.

E = Espousal (Do they want to marry you eventually? Who proposes to who?)

He never actually thought about marriage, but the longer your relationship lasts the more he considers proposing to you. It just seems right to Eomer for the two of you to be a lawful husband and wife. And the least in the world he would want to dishonor you or be the cause of gossip. 

F = Fragile (How protective are they of you? If they are, how do they show this?)

Eomer is probably the synonym to the word “protective”. He would panic if you cut your finger or accidentally hit something, and he cannot live with thoughts that you can be seriously wounded. The man would be extremely happy if you agreed to stay home and mind your business, but if you don’t he would try to keep you as close as possible to be sure you’re alive and safe.     

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they like receiving gifts?)

He could easily forget about your wedding anniversary, but for no reason would he forget to bring you at least a small bouquet of flowers when returning home from another military campaign. He isn't really aware of whether you wait for something special, but he considers flowers as the best and most universal present.  

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Eomer does not particularly like to hug. He prefers to kiss the back of your hand (if you're in public), or to kiss your forehead if the situation allows. Usually, he initiates a hug only when you meet after a long separation. His hugs are quite strong, he presses you so close that it becomes difficult for you to breathe. Sometimes he even hides his face in the crook of your neck and exhales noisily, thus tickling your skin.

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

Unexpectedly, but deep in his soul, Eomer is very worried about all sorts of romantic things. He knows that he is not a romantic at all, but he is afraid that he will not be able to satisfy your desires and needs. He learns quickly and never ceases to amaze you with various surprises.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

With a cold head, Eomer realizes that he has no reason to be jealous of anyone, because you were the first to confess your feelings. That is, you chose him among the other men around you. However, a hot heart makes his blood boil every time you talk to other guys or when someone shows a keen interest in you. He never accuses you of being jealous, but sometimes you still have to convince him that he is the only one for you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses always seem hasty and nervous, as if he hesitates, as if he is not entirely sure that you will kiss him in return. Therefore, kisses on the lips, he prefers kisses on the forehead. He gently presses his lips to your forehead, and sometimes freezes for a few minutes, gently stroking your shoulders with his strong palms. In return, he loves it when you kiss him on the chin. In fact, because of the difference in height, you just can't reach out to kiss him somewhere else. And it seems infinitely dear to him.

L = Love language (What’s their love language?)

Time. Unfortunately, Eomer has to spend a lot of time on military campaigns, patrols and missions. That's why every minute spent with you is so precious to him. He knows that you also have a lot of work to do, but the fact that you leave all your business when he returns home and devotes all your time to him means much more to him than all possible words.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Eomer is an early bird. He wakes up almost at dawn, because there is a lot of work ahead. At first, according to the old habit, he dressed for the service quite noisily. But several times he caught your dissatisfied and even unhappy look and later tried to be quieter. Later, he even got into the habit of kissing you on the forehead every morning before going to work to the sounds of your unintelligible growl.

N = Nicknames (What do they call you? What do you call them?)

You jokingly call him "My best Rohirrim" or “The strongest man on the Earth” and it always makes him blush. He also tried to create some funny nicknames for you, but he pronounced it with such a serious voice, that everything sounded more cringy than fun. So he just goes with “Flower Lady” or “Dear wife”.  

O = Overture (How did everything start?)

You've known each other for a long time, because you both grew up in Edoras, played and quarreled, and had secrets. Then you went to study in another country, and when you came back, you realized that you two have changed a lot. Eomer saw the same. Instead of the simple girl next door, there was now a beautiful independent woman beside him who filled his thoughts and heart more and more, until he could no longer resist his feelings.

P = Pace (Are they fast-paced in a relationship? Or do they like to take things slow?)

The path of your relationship is more like an ECG than a romantic walk. Since Eomer has never been interested in a relationship before, everything that is happening now is new to him. Therefore, he acts in accordance with his own feelings and emotions, which change almost every minute.

Q = Queen/King (Who takes the initiative in relationships?)

Eomer likes to brag that he is the boss in your pair, but in fact he will not take a step without consulting you. Even during quarrels, he is usually the first to apologize, because your sad eyes do not allow him to live in peace and do everyday things until he is convinced that everything is fine between you.

R = Remembrance (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

That special day when you first accompanied him on his way to a military campaign. Eowyn usually played this honorable role, but after your engagement you were given the right to be a woman who goes along with the commander in chief. He felt as happy and proud as ever. Especially since he knew that in a few weeks you would meet him back home as well.

S = Salvage (What issues does this relationship help him to cope with?

Ever since you came into his life, Eomer has felt full, complete. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle of his life were finally in place. He knew he didn't have much time for personal life, and the fact that you were willing to put up with his constant trips only confirmed his assumption that you were made for each other.

T = Tiny (How are they around children?)

All Eomer knows about children is that they have to have them sooner or later. He is not ready for his children now, but when he thinks about the distant future and perhaps old age, he definitely sees you as the mother of his descendants.

U = Ulterior (What’s their secret?)

He really likes it when you not only braid your hair, but also add flowers. Eomer sometimes likes to go with you on secret walks in the woods to collect wild flowers, which you then weave into your braids.

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

From the outside, Eomer seemed to you quite carefree, or at least one who quickly releases heavy feelings and can move on. Later you learned that your husband not only keeps everything to himself, but also does not know how to share and talk about his pain. Many nights you heard him wake up and run away from you to the next room to suppress his grief there again in solitude.One night you just silently stopped him, grabbed his arm tightly, and then hugged him just as tightly, showing that he doesn't have to express his feelings in words to get support.

W = Wound (How do they feel about exposing their scars/injuries?)

Scars and wounds are an integral part of his life. Eomer does not perceive them as something special and would be very happy if his partner won’t pay attention to this. However, he likes it when in the morning you gently run his old scars with your fingers to wake him up.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon about your relationship)

Unlike Eowyn, Eomer cooks quite well. Even better than you. He is ashamed of this, because he considers household chores not a man's occupation, but rather - that it doesn’t suit a brave warrior. However, he is ready to step over himself again and again to see your eyes light up again when you eat what he has prepared for you.

Y = Yearning (How well do they cope when their SO isn’t with them?)

He is used to the fact that you often do not see each other for weeks or even months, so he does not feel much sadness. Eomer consoles himself with the thought that your reunion is getting closer every day. However, the closer he gets home, the more nervous he becomes, because he always worries that your feelings may have changed during a long separation.

Z = Zzz (How are nights spent with them?)

The army taught him to sleep at any time and in any position, but also to wake up from any sound. The first night you spent together, Eomer hardly slept, because when you moved in his arms, he was worried that something had happened and had to check if everything was okay. Eventually, the quiet family life relaxed him a little and taught him comfort, so now he sometimes complains that I can't sleep peacefully in a tent without you by his side.

Thank you for reading!

You can find more of my works right here

[wild-lavender-rose]

I Forgive You

Pairing: Eomer x reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: After a brutal training session with Eeowyn, her handsome brother tends to your wounds in more ways than one. 

Warning: Description of injuries (bruises, blood, pain). Past-tense mention of violence. Steamy kiss, insinuative comments. 

     “Are you all right?” 

     The question stilled your movements, looking up at the stone wall of the armory as you worked to keep your voice steady. “Your sister is well-versed in the art of swordplay.” 

     “You underestimate her.” Eomer’s tone carried its usual level of confidence, however you sensed the concern hidden just under the surface. “She is not above using underhanded maneuvers to her advantage.” 

     “So I noticed,” you tensed as he crossed to you, his footsteps echoing off the rows of shields and swords lining the walls. No doubt Eowyn had told him of the condition you were in after your training session, being sure to mention the hint of blood on your shoulder that you were working to hide. 

     You were standing before a table with a steaming bowl of water before you and a wet cloth in your hand. You had stripped yourself of your cumbersome armor from the waist down and wore nothing but a dirty white shirt. 

     It was Eomer’s shirt. He had allowed you to borrow it two years prior. You had yet to give it back. It was nice to have a reminder of the love you shared while training, when the practice you endured threatened to break your body and your mind. You were the only one to blame for training so hard. Eomer often warned you against it, grumbling when you refused to listen. 

     Eomer’s breath against your neck brought you back to the present with a start. He stood behind you hardly an inch away, his eyes seeming to burn through the red stain on your left shoulder blade. 

     “Eowyn knows how to train well. I’m honored that she would fight me, my defeat gives me insight on areas I need to-” you cut off in a hiss as Eomer shifted the shoulder of your shirt, the coarse fabric grating against your throbbing wound. 

     “The only area I wish to see you improve upon is your ability to care for yourself.” Eomer moved slowly, allowing you to reach up and guide his hand as he pulled your shirt off your shoulder and down your arm. 

     You didn’t respond to this. Partly because he was right and you didn’t want to admit it. Partly because the air hitting your wound caused it to hurt. Badly. 

     Your breath caught as Eomer’s fingers ghosted over the inflamed skin, reaching out to grip the edge of the table before you with both hands. Water dripped from the cloth now balled up in your grip, hitting the floor with a persistent drip, drip, drip. 

     “Easy, easy,” Eomer’s strong hand gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady as he continued his examination. You closed your eyes, his touch grounding you. 

     “Give me the cloth.” He commanded, his concern now evident. “The cut must be bathed and covered to prevent infection.” 

     “But I’ll live?” You glanced over your shoulder at him, meeting his ever serious gaze with a faint smile. Because that’s what you were to him. His smile, his light. Even on the days when you were one of his worries as well. 

     Eomer gave a low grumble in response. “As the leader of the Riders I should punish you for your carelessness.” He pressed the cloth to your wound and made you gasp, nearly jerking away had not his grip been keeping you in place. 

     “Is this not punishment enough?!” You hissed, leaning hard against the table as Eomer continued to clean out the wound. 

     “If you considered pain to be a punishment then you would not have joined the king’s army, beloved.” 

     “I joined to be closer to you, my love. I apologize if that annoys you.” 

     “I forgive you.” Eomer whispered, pulling the cloth away. 

     Your body relaxed into the wave of relief, only to have your heart stutter as you felt hot, familiar lips kiss the curve of your exposed shoulder. You looked over your shoulder once more and was met with Eomer’s kiss on your lips, a kiss full of love and worry and relief that the wound was treatable. You closed your eyes and kissed back, surrendering yourself to the king of your world. The only man you would ever submit to. 

     The hand on your hip slid around your waist and pulled you back against him, keeping you close even after the kiss ended. You bumped your forehead against Eomer’s and smiled, prompting him to smile back. The expression was there for only the briefest of moments, replaced by a slight frown as he looked you over. “I forgive you for allowing yourself to be injured in training. I will always forgive you and assist you with your injuries. But...as your leader...” 

     “And my beloved.” You supplied. 

     He gave a slight nod. “You shouldn’t be training as hard as you do. If we were to go to battle, your injury would make you of little use.” 

     “I can fight with a tiny scratch on my-” you jolted as Eomer pressed the cloth against your wound once more. “Eomer!” 

     This drew a soft chuckle out of him. “Easy, beloved,” his arm kept you firm against him. “Save your strength.” 

     “For the imaginary battle you speak of?” 

     “No,” his lips were by your ear, his whispers low and hot. “For all of the...forgiveness I’ll show to you and your body later.” 

Fanfic Masterlist

[morwen-elf]

REST MY KING | ÈOMER KING OF ROHAN

SUMMARY ➪ THE KING COMES BACK HOME FULL OF DIRT AND BRUISES, SO Y/N DECIDES TO TAKE CARE OF HIM

WARNINGS ➪ MENTIONS OF BATTLE, INJURIES, AND FLUFF

NOTES ➪ THIS IDEA IS FROM @anyoneseenadam I HAVE HER PERMISSION TO USED IT, AND ALL THE CREDITS GO TO HER, AGAIN, THANK YOU SO MUCH, ANGEL!

Night had fallen in the kingdom of Rohan and with it, the cold had enveloped the inhabitants, most were in their houses sitting together by the fire and enjoying a cup of tea, while others were clutching the blankets of their beds, looking for heat.

The case of Y/n and Eowyn was similar, both women were near the fire, holding their cups with a delicious liquid inside, eagerly awaiting for the return of the warriors, especially Èomer's.

The Rohirrim had left the village a week ago and there was still no sign of them, their fighting qualities were great, some would dare to say that they are perfect, but tragedies come when no one expects them and that terrifies the girls. Eowyn was afraid of losing her big brother and Y/n the love of her life.

“I'll leave these in the kitchen,” Eowyn said, taking the two cups, now empty, in her hands

The golden-haired girl walked silently through the castle, trying not to wake the others. Y / n was left alone for a few seconds and decided to walk through the doors to enjoy the fresh air. Her head was full of questions and full of worries, sleeping became more and more difficult and she had to admit that some days she felt pathetic. Were she and Eowyn exaggerating everything?

Her eyes wandered through the far meadows of Rohan and a light caught her attention, the visitors never arrived at the hours of the morning and that managed to upset her, did they take advantage of the fact that the king was not there to attack Rohan? Y/n was ready to go in search of her sword when she managed to see the green flag with half a sun and a horse

The Rohirrim were back at home.

“It's them?” Eowyn asked staying by her side

“Yes, they returned” Y/n replied, folding her arms, as she watched the group ride up the castle stairs

They all got off their respective horses with a heavy jump and slowly took their things, their steps were clumsy and climbing had been difficult for all of them. The presence of both women caught their attention and the group stopped in front of them, removing their helmets from their heads.Y/n and Eowyn let out a strong sigh of relief when they looked at Eomer's face and body, it was selfish to only worry about him, but they just couldn't help it.

“You shouldn't be outside and the castle gates shouldn't be open” Eomer rapidly reminded them

Hearing his voice again caused them girls joy and neither of them could hide their smile.

“We're sorry, my king” Y/n murmured feeling him scan her from head to toe

Eomer had missed the sweetness of her voice.

“You guys come in, you all need to rest” Eowyn indicated taking some warriors inside with her

Eomer seemed to be paralyzed and Y/n took the moment to check him up, his face had traces of orc blood, as did his body and sword. Several cuts adorned his arms and one crossed his right cheekbone, his eyes were full of fatigue, but also reassurance in knowing that he was at home and that he had the adorable company of his girlfriend and, hopefully, future wife and queen.

Their relationship progressed slowly but surely, neither was determined to speed things up and they preferred to enjoy every moment they were together. Eomer was not a person of many words and that is why he showed his love and affection with other details, sometimes they were gifts, other bouquets of flowers, also kisses and caresses, plus the delicious nights they spent together, and finally, they talk about the future.

“Let's go inside, you are exhausted, my love” Y/n commented, clasping their hands and leading him to the warm of his home

The walk to their room was silent, but the force with which Eomer squeezed her hand, let her know that he had missed her and that he did not want to be away from her in the days to come. The wooden door was opened and Y/n was in charge of closing it behind their bodies.

“You haven't been sleeping, have you?” Eomer asked noticing the bed perfectly made and the same way as when he had left.

“You know that it is difficult for me to sleep when you are not here” before her answer, the king noticed the dark circles that inhabited the lower part of her eyes

“I will prepare a bath for you, there is no way you are touching the bed in that state” Y/n scoffed, making him smile, something that she had wanted to see for days

Eomer watched her enter the bathroom and heard how the water tap was turned on, Y/n began to regulate the temperature and then let the bathtub fill up a little above half, she added a pinch of soap to form a small layer of foam on top. The king carefully began to undress, letting all his dirty and destroyed clothing fall to the ground, along with his shield, sword and helmet.

Bored of being alone, Eomer followed in his girlfriend's footsteps and had her within his visual field again, he did not hesitate to hug her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, placing a kiss on her shoulder. She smiled and turned around to him

“The bath is ready” Y/n reported, stroking his cheek as Eomer closed his eyes and leaned into her touch

At the moment of separating, the king turned his back on his bride and entered the warm water, immediately feeling discomfort in his wounds. Y/n smiled to herself having a perfect view of his body and is that, despite being dirty and hurt, Eomer was still an incredible sight for her beautiful eyes.

Immediately, she took a seat next to him, staying out of the water and with her sponge began to wash his body, beginning with the arms and shoulders, revealing in him the cuts and blows that he had obtained hunting a large group of orcs. The water quickly turned a dark red color and the sponge was the same.

“They were more than we thought” Eomer confessed in a low tone of voice, “We lost some of our own”

Y/n sighed and let him continue speaking sadly, the king was a person who did not express his feelings, but she knew how much it affected him to lose his warriors, they were not only the defenders of the people, they were friends and family. They grew up, trained and fought together watching each other's backs. It was understandable that everyone was down with the losses.

The sponge passed down his back and quickly began to wash his chest and torso, a bruise inhabited his left side.

“Close your eyes, babe” Y/n indicated, gently passing the sponge over his face, removing the remains of blood, sweat, and dirt, “I only have to do your hair” she murmured calmly, kissing his lips

The girl went in search of her shampoo and spread a little in her hands, to then run it through his golden hair. Eomer threw his head back and let his body relax, while enjoying the treatment his girlfriend was giving him. In the end, Y/n removed all the product and got up to go in search of a towel, Eomer took the opportunity to get up, letting the water run all over his body.

“There you go, love” Y/n speak, handing him the soft white towel, watching him wrap it around his waist

When they got out of the bathtub, both of them were facing each other and Eomer smiled at the height difference, Y/n was a girl of commonly normal height, but Eomer was a quite tall person, and not even when she was wearing heels could reach him.

The king placed a kiss on her lips, before walking to his room and flopping onto the bed, not bothering to wear his pajamas. Y/n laughed when she saw his actions and it didn't take her long to undress, to lie next to him, being wrapped in his strong arms.

“I miss you, doll” Eomer muttered sleepily, hiding his face in the space of her neck

“Me too honey, but it's time to sleep. Rest my king”

[mirclealignr]

can i have prompts 12. drunk and 26. confessing feelings with eomer, please?

drunken truths | eomer

a/n; went a bit overboard but I love him lol. first eomer fic too!

warnings; mentions and consumption of alcohol, fem!reader.

word count; 1000+

to be notified when i post, follow @mirclesjournal

The celebration of the victory at helms deep was bittersweet. Your army, your kingdom, had suffered great loss, and yet there was still such relief and happiness when it was all over. Despite the casualties, many men found the courage to set aside their grief and celebrate with their fellow soldiers. You were one of them, as was your closest companion, Eomer.

He was rough and masculine, but he was loyal to a fault and could be soft when the occasion called for it. With you, he often found it calling more and more frequently. Every time he noticed something about you that he had not taken the time to admire before, he became more gentle in case he might break it. He could not live with himself if he were to be the reason for any part of you being broken.

And now, as he watched you laugh, dance and sing with the rest of them, he smiled fondly uncaring of who might see his staring and smiles. With ale in his system, the courage to approach you came upon him in an instant and before he could understand what he was doing, he was by your side.

“Lady y/n,” he began, intending to continue but finding himself lost for words upon seeing your eyes fall on him.

“Did we not agree to forgo formalities?” You laughed, turning your body to the man asking for you.

“I think we did agree on such a thing once,” he laughed, stepping closer, “I suppose I forgot.”

“You often do, and I often remind you of our agreement,” you shook your head teasingly, eyeing him in a way that made him more nervous than he thought it might.

“Won’t you dance with me, Eomer? I would hate to know I’d danced with everyone but you.”

“I should hate to be the only one who hadn’t,” he smiled, taking your hand and leading you to the dance floor.

The music was upbeat, festive, and though Eomer was your partner, you often found yourself holding the hands of others during this dance. But even so, your eyes were locked to his and his to yours. It was almost innocent, though war had ensured neither of you remained so. But the butterflies in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks and his brought an excitement to you, as if you were teenagers beginning their courting.

When the dance ended, Eomer found himself beside you again, like he was so happily at the beginning. Both your hair and his hair were messy, and you both breathed heavily from the dancing. But his eyes would not leave you, they were both questioning and persuasive.

“I think i wish for us to be more than friends,” you confessed quickly, feeling the bravery that came with ale and pressing a hand to his chest as you moved closer to him.

“And I think you are perhaps letting the ale talk over you,” he laughed, though still letting his hand fall over the one you had planted against his chest.

A sinking feeling in your stomach grew as the words and their meaning became apparent to you. Your eyes fell the floor as your hand fell to your side, even though Eomer tried to keep it within his. The smile that once adorned your face had contorted into a small frown.

“I apologise, my lord. I didn’t wish to offend you, and if that is what you prefer, then I will agree with you—it was the ale, nothing more,” you said dryly, stepping away from him.

Eomer realised his mistake as he saw his chance slipping away, his chance of happiness that he knew he’d only be able to find with you. Over months of training, fighting, living and laughing by your side, he came to realise it was your face he wished to see first thing in the morning and no one else's. There were no answers for why the world was such a treacherous place, but he thought it bearable with you and only you.

He could not let you walk away.

He reached for your arm, clasping it firmly enough to keep you from leaving him behind. He would not hesitate. Your confession had caught him off guard, but there was more of him that believed it to be a false confession only spoken under the influence.

“Wait, please," he pleaded, but you winced from his touch, "That is not in the slightest what I meant. I only thought-” he could not form the words but you stayed to listen hopefully, “I thought what I said might be true. I did not think you returned my feelings, and I found it easier to believe that you did not, despite your confession,” he admitted, shifting from foot to foot.

“How could I not return them?” you scoffed in disbelief at the man who usually exuded such confidence but was now rendered an awkward mess, “Though others in our company believe me to be a social climber, perhaps I am,” you teased halfheartedly, cocking an eyebrow and wondering if he thought the same.

“I should not think you so insensitive, nor selfish, I know you better than that.”

“Not well enough to know when I’m telling the truth, or to notice that the truth had been staring you in the face for many months now.”

Eomer clenched his jaw, biting his bottom lip in quiet, humoured annoyance. To wipe the grin from your face, he closed the space between you, looking down upon you with a stern expression. It did not soften until he saw your eyes widen from his stare and close proximity. Only then did his features soften and mouth pull into a triumphant smile.

“I can be less observant than I should,” he admitted in a whisper, dipping his head down so you could hear him clearly over the noise in the hall, “But I will make it up to you.”

“How?” you asked, your breathing less steady than you hoped it would be.

Eomer did not speak his response, but instead closed the gap between your faces so your lips could connect in a sweet, but deep kiss which you had both longed for. He was not concerned with spectators, nor were you, and to prove it his hands cupped your face to pull you closer. Yours tangled in his hair feverishly, and he began to smile against your mouth.

“Beautiful,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours.

[thewhiteladyofrohan]

A Duel for the Heart

Pairing: Eomer x reader

Word Count: 1,714

Warnings: mentions of weapons, fighting

A/N: I’m a sucker for these kinds of competitions and I wished it still happened. Btw, I used the word moderator because I had no idea what the actual word for it was. If any of you guys do, please let me know! I wrote this in a rush so excuse any grammar mistakes.

Add yourself to my taglist!

It was July, a month when the scorching sun would beat on the backs of the Rohirrim, the sweltering heat making them irritable and tired. The horses were restless, too, and often went to stand in whatever shade they could find. Barely a breeze blew by in which the people could cool themselves and even horse-riding had become too tiresome. Life went on, and although today would have been spoiled by the heat as well, there was something to look forward to; Duel’s Day. A day when a lord could confess their love for a maiden through a duel and prove to her, and the world, that he was worthy of her.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

After coming to Middle Earth and helping the Fellowship defeat Sauron, you realized that Rohan was the place you wanted to stay. And if anyone asked if it was because of a certain blonde-haired prince? Well, you would just laugh and shake your head saying that you really liked horses. Eowyn, however, saw right through, as all sisters do you suppose, but she thankfully chose not to tease you about it. She was actually the one who had explained what Duel’s Day was during the journey to Helm’s Deep.

“So first, the day begins with a feast. Men and women alike wear their best clothes and get ready for the day,” explained Eowyn with obvious excitement in her voice. It sounded as if this event made her really happy and those small moments were rare to find in those days. She continued, “Everyone gathers outside of Rohan. Whoever wants to compete can step into the arena and one by one, a pair will go and duel. Whoever loses will exit the ring, and the winner goes on to the next round to duel another person. And so the game goes until you have one person left standing.

“The winner is given a flower that they then give to a maiden. If the maiden accepts the man’s token of love, they wear the flower for the rest of the day and to the celebration feast.”

Eowyn giggled as if she remembered something funny. “There was this one time where a man had given a woman his flower but she rejected him.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “As it turned out, they were married three years later!” You both burst into laughter.

You hadn’t thought much of it then, but now you wondered whether any man would be willing to duel for you. It was useless pining on your part, but you were hoping that Eomer would. Yes, Eomer son of Eomund, the same man who was now king of Rohan. Which made your predicament all the more difficult. It was impossible that he would ever notice you, much less love you. Still, anything is possible if you believe… right?

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

Now, your first Duel’s Day was here. You were excited to be a part of such a loved celebration and were hoping to fill your stomach with some traditional Rohanic food and dessert. Eowyn gave you one of her dresses to wear. It was a beautiful sunset peach with emblazoned gold patterns on the edges of the neck and sleeves. She helped you fashion your hair into a simple way since all the maids had been given the day off. Neither you nor she was very good at styling hair, to say the least, but Eowyn seemed to be very proud of her craft so you decided to wear it proudly.

Everyone was gathered outside the walls of Edoras where a makeshift “ring” was laid out with sacks of dirt. Women, children, and the elderly all lined around the exterior of the ring while the men who wanted to duel were pooling inside. Everyone was excitedly chattering about who they thought would win.

“I just know that Fulthain will win this year. He won the last three years as well.” Eowyn leaned to whisper in your ear. “He gave his flower to a different woman each time.”

You shook your head in fake disbelief. “How shameless.” You both burst out in laughter again. If this was how the day was going so far, you couldn’t wait for the fun that lay ahead. But then a thought occurred to you.

“Tell me, Eowyn, has Eomer by any chance ever taken part in the duel before he was king,” you asked feigning nonchalance.

Eowyn eyed you suspiciously and you knew you were caught. “Yes, he did actually.” she said sarcastically, “Four years ago. He won, too, you know. He gave his flower to a woman and told her he would marry her when the war was over.”

You gave Eowyn’s arm a smack and laughed along with her. Your eyes searched across the arena for King Eomer only to find him already looking at you from atop his raised chair. You chose not to linger on it and instead diverted your attention to the arena.

Right now, it was being decided which two people would go first. A burly man with a thick blonde mane came forward and volunteered first. His face held a confident smirk, almost as if he knew he was going to win.

“That’s Fulthain,” Eowyn whispered to you, “oh, I really hope he doesn’t win this year, too.”

“Is there anyone who wishes to go against Fulthain in the first round?” the moderator’s voice boomed over everyone’s excited chatter. Suddenly, all the noise dimmed, for someone unexpected had stepped into the ring.

“I do,” proclaimed Eomer as he went to stand in front of Fulthain. Eomer stood at least half a foot taller than him, allowing his larger body to make Fulthain’s seem childlike. Murmurings rose in the crowd and you had to admit you were confused as well. Eowyn gave you a side-glance but quickly looked away.

“Why would he join the competition?” you questioned her, “He is a king! He can choose whomever he wants. And doesn’t he have to marry someone of noble blood?”

“He does,” Eowyn answered, looking straight at you, “But, as king, he may also choose to marry whomever he wishes.”

Well, good luck to me with that, you thought to yourself. The duel started and Eomer and Fulthain attacked each other with their swords. The next fifteen minutes went by in a blur until at last, Eomer stood victorious with his sword pointed at Fulthain’s exposed neck.

“He just defeated the best,” said a little boy beside you, “He is sure to win the competition.”

And win he did. Eomer ended up beating every other person who came against him, never making a wrong move. It was also becoming increasingly blatant how all the women were staring at him. Jealousy coursed through you like a hot wire. Eomer was sure to pick one of the prettier women from here.

Eomer was finally awarded his flower by the moderator. It was a beautiful sunset orange with a dark brown center and a rich emerald green stem. Everyone’s voices were hushed as they tried to speculate on who might be receiving the flower. Eomer looked around the ring searching for someone until at last, his eyes landed in your direction and he strode towards you. Everyone parted and you realized you were left standing alone and quickly scrambled to get out of the way.

“Wait, no!” Eomer called. You glanced up to see him standing in front of you.

“M-me?”

“Yes,” He seemed nervous but you could probably compete with him in that. Why was he here? “I wanted you to have my flower.”

You had no idea what reaction to give so you just stood there and stared at him.

Eomer’s nervousness rose. “You see, ever since I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve seen that you are intelligent, talented, and unique. Your smile lights up the world and your laughter is medicine to heal a broken soul. You are kind and brave, and-” a pink color bloomed on his neck, “and beautiful.” You were still staring at him. He plowed his hands through his hair. “You know, it isn’t easy confessing your feelings in front of hundreds of people. Could you please say something?”

You jolted back to reality and you felt heat crept up into your neck. “My lord, I really don’t know what to say, I-”

“There is nothing you must say. It seems I have assumed your feelings incorrectly. My sister had led me to believe that you felt the same but I suppose it was all just teasing.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted him, “Eowyn told you that I loved you?”

“No, she said you fancied m- you love me?” Eomer’s face held an emotion that could only be characterized as disbelief. “And all this time I had thought my feelings were one-sided.”

You giggled in response finding the situation hilarious. You would talk to Eowyn about her betrayal later. Eomer extended his hand holding the flower, silently asking you with his eyes. You nodded your head and Eomer tucked the delicate stem behind your ear. Everyone applauded loudly and you could even hear some whistles.

Eowyn came to where you were standing and wrapped the both of you in a hug, “You should join us for the feast at the Meduseld, we’ll make your favorite dessert!” She poked you in the side with her elbow and gave you a wink. “I’ll make sure Eomer is there, too!” Your face heated again and you covered it with your hands.

Eomer was quick to save you this time, though. “If you do come, make sure to steer clear of the soup.”

Oh no. “Why, who’s making it?”

Eomer breathed a deep chuckle. “Why, the same person who did your hair, of course.” It took a moment for you to understand but then you were clutching your sides with Eomer.

“I’m standing right here and I can hear everything your saying,” came Eowyn’s disgruntled voice which made you both laugh harder. “In my defense, I did not have a sister to practice on.”

“It’s alright, Eowyn,” comforted Eomer, as he put his arm around her shoulder and looked directly at you. “You will have someone to practice on more often now.”

You gave your biggest smile, excited about what was to come.

Everything taglist: @beenovel @katbby16 @elvish-sky @peneigh-dzredfohl

[errruvande]

The Blood on My Hands (Éomer x Reader)

Summary: During the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, some enemies made Éomer vanishes into the void of his own mind.

Word Count: 2,876 TW: light description of dead bodies and blood, angst

AN: I wrote this in the beggining of May, when the ending of WW2 is celebrating. On the wave of tonns of russian war movies I ended up writing this...

The war had brought its worst. Elves and men, young and old - the bodies were lying everywhere, as far as you could see, from the high walls of Minas-Thirit to the Anduin. They all fell, like puppets whose strings were cut off. Horses were running in chaos, frightened, in search for their masters to soothe them.

Those who fell had been brought to the lazaret, bodies drained in blood were flying in front of your eyes without ceasing, so you couldn’t keep up with the number of patients who you would be carrying for. You were there for extra help, as were all your friends. All healers were gathered from all around the Gondor and Rohan to service in this war, and you kept your mask of hopefulness and courage to the very end of your shift (though there wasn’t a thing like shift that night, other healers were send you off to get some rest, since you were on your feet since morning).

You were puffing when you finally made your way to the doorway, squeezing through the wounded soldiers on your way, that only had increased in number by the time you took a step out of the building that was holded as a lazaret. The night breeze felt like a well deserved reward for your labour in the room with lack of air, where the whole being smelled like warm blood and broken bones. Your eyelids were so heavy, you took an effort to keep them open and overlook the scale of that disaster.

“So many lives are wasted…” You exhaled bleakly, shaking your head in disbelief.

You were bouncing on your weakened legs, trotting down the leader, when you felt a strong grip on your shoulder.

“You’ve done great today, Y/n, thank you.” The soft, admiring voice fell off the future King’s lips, but all the way his words sounded muffled.

You slightly turn your head to be able to hook his being with your eyes, giving him a weak, exhausted smile. “Where are the others?” You sounded concerned, it was rare, if at all, when Aragorn was apart from his friends, and you wouldn’t be giving too much attention to it in different circumstances, but now every uncommon thing was encouraging the pernicious feeling of desperation. “Are they fine, do they need my attention?”

Aragorn soothed you, lowering his voice. “They are all fine, Legolas and Gimli are deep in the city now with Gandalf, Merry and Pippin are--”

“I saw Merry, he got wounded.” You cut him off, without meaning to be arrogant, you just were at your highest state of tiredness and weren't able to control yourself. “It was bad, but he will soon be fine.” You hadn’t known hobbits for that long as Aragorn, though your heart hadn’t needed much time to form an attachment to these two naughty boys. You caught your breath and murmured in question. “What of others?”

Aragorn went blurred for a minute, trying to get together his thoughts and memories, he signed. “I haven’t seen Éomer since he found Éowyn on the battlefield, but Éowyn is in the main House of Healing.” In a matter of seconds your face became covered in shadow and confusion. Your breathy voice cracked into whine, and your body required a stable hand to grip on. “No, Y/n, I believe Éomer is alright, he’s probably somewhere with his men, cheering them up.” Aragorn tried to sound easy and reverent, knowing that your body wouldn’t make it through another stressful night.

“I need to find him,” your gaze was terror-striken and the grip on Aragorn’s hand only tightened, giving Strider’s wrist a numb feeling. “Where are they resting?”

Aragorn overlooked the field, placing his hand over his eyes to save them from the moonlight. “There, but be careful, you are too tired to walk now.” He pointed at the little firelight not far away from the city wall.

You’d gathered all the remaining strength and headed up to the little camp. You were huffing under the weight of the working days, and your eyes already were half-covered, when you stumbled across the rohirrim’s conversation.The bunch of voices you heard: familiar and unfamiliar - but not the one you were searching for. Your heart dropped to your toes and you almost fell, catching yourself before you smashed the ground.

“Guys!” You approached the camp and greeted them, some of them didn’t even lift their eyes on you, pretending you weren't there, but some stood up, or, at least, tried to. “Where is Éomer, is he with you?” None of them said anything, shaking their heads and signing.

“Nay, we hadn’t seen ‘im yet, but Firefoot is here.” One of them whistled and then ran the huge horse and neighed, seeing a familiar face. “Poor lad, he got some wounds himself, but not too harsh.” So what of Éomer then? Is he still behind, in the field and without a horse? What if he is wounded? He wouldn’t make it to the city without a horse if he’s wounded

The thought in your head gave you no rest. You approached Firefoot rapidly, took his reins in your hands and jumped on him. “Please, love, we need to find Éomer. Off you go, as fast as you can!”

And you vanished into the darkness of the field.

Riding for not less than an hour, your legs started to betray you, leesing they grip around Firefoot's body. You were sliding off the horseback from time to time, managing to hold your seat with a huge effort. But the strength wasn’t there anymore, it almost left you, when Firefoot suddenly stopped moving, stood as he planted roots into the ground, and neighed. You were long gazing into the darkness, even slid off the horse (not gonna lie, you wanted to stretch your legs long ago), took his reins in one hand and made an effort to take some steps forward, but Firefoot was serious in his intention to stay on that spot.

“Cursed head!” You slapped yourself, when you remembered you had a torch and some flint to fire the torch up. “I might use this earlier, Gods help me!” You lit the torch and made a few steps to the side, still too many corpses were laying on the ground. To tell the truth, you immediately lost the desire of having a torch to light your way. In the light of the fire the corrupted faces of orcs and men were frightening, shimmering in red and orange, they lay motionless and stared at you.

The desire to put the fire out vanished as soon as you saw a hunched up figure in front of you. The helmet was off and the sword was laying near the said figure, his breathing was slow but audible and monotonous. You fell on your knees, when you passed him round and saw familiar face. The face, your face, dear face. You weren’t able to control your emotions, so soon enough your face became wet and you cupped Éomer’s face in your hands and kissed him on the lips with the last bit of strength you still had.

But Éomer wasn’t there. He didn’t answer your kiss, didn’t move his head or arms, anything. He was staring into the void, with gloomy, blurred eyes. You toppled over on your back and then crawled to him, placing your palms on his hips. For a second you thought he was dead, pierced by the sword through his back and been left here sitting motionless, waiting for his hour.

“Éomer, please!” You fell on your booty, waving your palm in front of his face to bring his mind back to reality. “Eome-er!” You crawled back a bit to see the full picture, even if the close-up of his face is something you would die to look at for the rest of your life, you needed to see his body. Is he wounded? No. There’re some scratches on his face and wrists, but he’s not wounded. Still, his face is weirdly pale… Why why why??

“Éomer, that’s me, Y/n, please…” You begged his motionless figure to look at you, to say something to you, but all in vain. It seems his heart was still beating but his soul wasn’t there.

By foolishness, or because you were too tired to think about essential things, you left your pouch of medical stuff at lazaret, and were completely sure you would return there later that night. Little you knew how handy it would be here, now, a bit of pipe-weed extract to bring Éomer back to sensation would be precious, but you had none of that.

You fell on your back and tears rolled out of your eyes and down your cheeks, you couldn’t make it stop, you were too scared and confused because of Éomer, and fatigue did not allow you to think about it properly.

You were at the point of no return, when Éomer moaned out a smoky growl. His jaw dropped and he left out an inaudible sigh, moving his lips in an effort to say something to you. Thrilled up by the actual sign of life in him, you, surprisingly even for yourself, jumped on your knees and untangled a flask with elvish water elven healer gave you back at the Helm’s Deep. You watered his lips in it, trying to fill his mouth with the yellow liquid.

Suddenly, Éomer moved his gaze on you, though his eyes were still veiled with smog. You let out a huge breath, mixed with laughter as shaky as your mental health was at that moment.

“You scared me to death!” Your desire of touching him and kissing him was crossed by the awareness of hurting him, so you sat yourself down and waited.

“That- that day…” Shaky, dry words, his voice sounded like a squeak, but you let out an uplifted sigh. “was different,” he lifted up his hands, trembling was sharp and Éomer glued his eyes to it, you saw every muscle of his arms fidgeting. “these men… they almost killed me, they were furious, fierce and wanted me dead,” Éomer swallowed the tears, lifting his eyes back on you, his speech was macabre and distressing. “men…” He repeated grievously.

You didn’t quite follow the train of his thoughts. Also ‘men’? What of them? Éomer, slowly crawling out of the blackout, wrapped his fingers around your chin and turned your head to the side, guessing your confusion.

“Look, Y/n,” he whispered near your ear. “Haradrim.” You turned your face, hiding it behind your hand, though Éomer’s fingers still were keeping you facing the direction in which the dead man lied. “No, look harder,” you couldn’t force yourself to open your eyes. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen in lazareth, but you weren't ready for that at that moment. His face was corrupted from pain and anger - the dagger of Éomer was stuck in his throat, so the man gagged on his own blood. You looked at Éomer frightened, still the question remained in your wide open eyes. “They are just like us,” the monotonous voice of his only planted the more fear in you, and, averted the eye from the dead body, you caught yourself studying Éomer’s arms. He was rubbing his right hand, wiping the blood that marked his left palm on the pants. His moves were sharp and anxious, and you completely lost the point of his odd behavior. It was a huge question for you - Éomer is a mighty warrior, what happened on these fields that he lost his confidence? “Now, I’m up to the elbows in human blood.” His lips shaked and rubbing moves became even more psychotic, he scratched himself ‘till the tiny drops of his own blood didn’t appear on the arm.

Looking at him, suddenly something clicked in your mind and everything fell into place. Being a mighty warrior for the last ten years, he saw many deaths, he killed many times, but he never killed another man. That day covered him in the blood of other people, for the first time in his life he felt red thick liquid spill out into his face when he cut his foe’s throat, blood of human, not of an orc or goblin, but of human, of the same flash and the same blood as Éomer himself. Of course he has seen people dying from other human hands whether in a drunk fight or from them being executed, but his hands were clean. Until that day.

You crawled to him, wrapping your fingers around his palm and pulling it away from the hand he still was rubbing the blood off of. “That’s not your fault you had to fight them, my love.” Pulling yourself closer to Éomer, you carefully embraced his torso, watching his reaction. “Don’t blame yourself, you did what you had to. Otherwise they would have you killed.’ You slowly moved to his lap and connected your forehead with his, feeling Éomer’s shaky breath on your face.

“I know we have a rather problematic past, but why now? Shouldn’t we have been fighting together against him, not against each other?” Despite being muffled, the words themself were strong and powerful, and you only tightened the embrace, pressing yourself closer to him.

Keeping holding him in your embrace, you drawling. “They didn't have wise leaders to follow, it wasn’t tough for him to lure them to his side.” Éomer shivered from the warmth you gave him while speaking near his ear, and his hands landed on your back. Grazing Éomer’s cheek with your fingers gently, you lifted his chin up and pressed your lips to his in a timid kiss. “Let’s ride back, you do not need to be here any longer.” Your eyes were shimmering with tears as you watched him rubbing his cheek on your palm.

You stood up, not desiring to tear your palm off Éomer’s face, but the urge to leave this place and save Éomer’s sanity was greater. So you called for Firefoot, and while he was trotting to you, made sure to help Éomer to stand up. He was barely standing on his feet, so you wrapped your arm around his chest, a bit lower the armpits, and steaded him. “Lie down, Fire.” You implored the horse, your back was already bending down from the weight of Éomer in full armor. When Firefoot lay down on his forelegs, you carefully placed Éomer on the saddle and then walked back to grab his helmet and sword.

It was tough to keep Éomer on the horseback, though Firefoot’s walk was smooth and delicate, Éomer didn’t have any energy to press his tights to Firefoot’s body, or to hold tight on his mane. “We are almost there, my love, do you see the lights? The camp of our men is there.” You put your chin on Éomer ’s shoulder and pressed a small kiss on his neck. It seemed to soothe him a bit, and the rest of the way he sat still, resting his back on your chest.

When you were close enough to the camp, you slid off the horse, offering your help to Éomer , but he refused, pulling one of his legs to the side and jumped off Firefoot, almost falling down when his weak-kneesed legs smashed the ground under his weight. He overlooked the camp - the majority of rohirrim was already asleep but those, who were still enjoying the night, stood up and walked to greet their future King. Suddenly, counting second to the moment his men would be standing within arm's reach from him, Éomer took your upper arm and pulled you closer to his anxious self.

“Y/n, please, do not mention what happened there,” Éomer furrowed his brows, muffling. “they do not need to know that their future king has weakened before the face of death.”

The exhale you let out was admiring, though you trotted to hide you both behind Firefoot. Placing the hand that wasn’t in Éomer ’s grip, on his jaw, framing it smoothly, the moumour of yours rolled out off your lips and soothed him. “That doesn’t make you weak, Éomer . Quite opposite. You are going to be the King who cherishes human life, isn’t that beautiful and powerful?” Cupping his cheeks in your hands you tilted his head down. “I am sure with Aragorn you will improve the friendship between your people and Haradrim, and we will never again end up in a terrifying situation like this. All human folks would live merely because of yours and Aragorn’s doing and that I promise.”

You saw him mumbling your name, “Y/n,” Éomer’s lips drew, and he sighed, idolizing you for your words that made his heart slow down its beating and stop criticizing himself for being too sensitive about the whole situation. “I’ve never felt more lucky to have you, than now.” He let you pull his face lower and pressed your lips to his. Éomer lingered on the kiss, tearing his lips off yours only when he heard a couple of rohirrim chattering beside you, mocking you two for such an intimate move.

“So, er, Éomer, where have you been?”

“We thought something bad happened to you…”

Éomer glanced over you, offering you a simple smile of admiring. “Mourning.” He said thoughtfully, cutting his men’s chattering off.

AN: Thank you for taking your time and reading this, I love y'all 💖 If you liked it, that would make my day if you reblog this and let other people see n' read this story 😘

Forever tag: @bonjour-rainycity @fucking-with-elves

Fic tag: @simbxlmyne @moriamithril @cottage-writings @hadesx97 @emptyspace008 (I also thought you @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse would be interested in it 👉🏼👈🏼)

[thespiritoflife]

Requested: May I make an Eomer x reader request? When Eomer is forced into exile, the reader, Eomer’s wife, fears that she and their young son would be cast out as well. In order to ensure the safety of her son, the reader turns to her good friend Legolas for help. I figured she could escape to Mirkwood to seek Legolas’ aid and thanduil could be his usual skeptical self until Legolas kind of tells him off due to the reader being a warrior herself and a dear friend.

Okaay, here is the result. I wrote it with my style, so it may not be perfect. Hope you will still like this!

Y/S/N - your son's name

Pairing: Eómer x reader

Warnings: grammatical errors an that's all I think

The promise

"Forgive me, love. I didn't want to ..." Eómer held my hand.

I was angry and sad at the same time.

Our little son ran after Eómer.

"Where are you going, daddy?" he asked.

Eómer lifted him into his arms. "Don't worry about me, I'll be back ... and I'll take care of you," he winked at me.

"We should go slowly now." guard touched Eomer's shoulder.

"One more minute, please. I have to say goodbye to my wife," he said.

 The guard nodded. "But quickly."

The son hugged his father for the last time and then ran away crying.

I sighed. "Y / N .. forgive me. I'll blame myself for this to my death, " he said.

"Don't worry, it wasn't your fault, after all. You are their victim. Just promise me you'll be back, okay? And be careful ..." I buried my head in his chest.

"Of course I'll be back. I promise. I wouldn't leave you alone. Be careful too. I love you..." We still wanted to kiss, but the guard grabbed Eómer.

Eómer looked at me one last time and left.

I wanted to cry, be furious, but I was silent. I have to be strong because of our son.

A few days passed. I missed Eómer. Like fish misses water. And I'm not talking about our son. He kept asking about his father. What was I supposed to tell him? I was just comforting him.

People frowned at me in Edoras and whispered something. I didn't feel safe here anymore.

I only had one thing left. Or rather a person.

"What? Y / N, why didn't you tell me sooner? I'd take you away from here right now," Legolas sat with me. We were still in Edoras.

I wrote him a letter asking for help. He immediately ran over here.

Legolas was a great friend of mine. I couldn't wish for a better friend.

"Oh, God, what did Eómer get you into? The two of you," he added.

And did I mention that Eómer doesn't like Legolas and Legolas doesn´t like Eómer?

Eómer thought that Legolas liked me, which was the greatest bullshit I had ever heard.

"Legolas, let's not deal with this now, please. So will you help us please? Trust me, I wouldn't turn to you with help if I didn't have a child, I could handle it by myself. But with our son, no, I'm afraid for him."

Tears began to form in my eyes.

He took my hand. "Of course I can help you. You are my best friend. I'll take you both to Mirkwood."

 I was moved. "Thank you, I appreciate it ... you don't even know how."

I hugged him.

"Who is that woman, Legolas? And that child?"

That was the first thing I heard when we came here.

We were in the throne room, Legolas's father was on the throne and frowned at us. Nice man.

"Your Majesty, I'm Y / N, and this is my son Y / S / N, " I told him this.

My son had his head buried in my skirt. Poor child, he was afraid.

"If you don't mind, we would want to stay here. Until my husband returns from exile ... I promise not to get under your feet, to bother you with our presence ... quite the opposite, I will try to help as I will just can. With anything." I told him.

Thranduil came out of the throne and approached us. "I don't want to hear you, I want to hear my son ..."

Legolas sighed by my side. "Father, I don't know what your problem is."

"Are you really asking me that? I have a problem with dragging a man here. She will be useless to our detriment. What are you doing? They don't need your help, they can do it themselves." Thranduil didn't even raise his voice, but if his gaze killed, I'm already dead.

"Father, at least do it for me. Don't you know that Y / N is my dear friend? Best friend? And she's an amazing warrior. We need more warriors like her."

"Legolas ..." I said. I was moved.

 "They'll do on their own ... it'll probably be hard, but that's what life is about." Thranduil continued as if he hadn't heard what his son was saying.

"He is right, Legolas. If it bothers you, we'll go somewhere else ... it won't be a problem for me," I told him.

Legolas looked at me in disbelief. "Are you serious? No, no, you'll be here and that's it. Just because my father doesn't want to allow it, doesn't mean you won't be here. "

"Are we worth it? ”

"Yes. You are. You will stay here. And without debate, " he emphasized you stay here.

Thranduil grinned. "Are you serious, Legolas? Even without my permission?"

"Even without your permission, Father." That was the last thing Legolas said. And then he grabbed us both and dragged us to a room.

He said he was a prince and that he could do whatever he wanted and that we should not dare leave because he would not forgive me.

Oh god, I didn't want him to have trouble for us, but what was I supposed to do?

I just started praying, first thanking for such a great friend and then making Eómer come home quickly.

The days passed. To my surprise, Thranduil didn't kick us out of here, quite the opposite. He was silent.

I went to training again. Legolas was right. I'm a warrior. So I just honed my skills with Legolas.

My son usually wandered around with elves somewhere because he made some friends. He was fine here. I sighed. Thank God.

But Eómer missed me so much. Every time I went to bed, I cried softly. Where is he? What's wrong with him?

I wrote him letters, told him we were in Mirkwood, but he never wrote to me. I was terribly worried about him. Then I stopped writing letters to him. He probably didn't read them.

Gradually, I put up with the fact that he would probably never return. Legolas told me that he had left exile a long time ago. But where did he go? Why didn't he come to us? I let him know where we were. No one has ever seen him. People started spreading the word that he probably died.

 I remember that day. I sat outside on a bench, swallowing the sun's rays. It's been a year. Year. And Eómer was not yet returned.

 Legolas sat down next to me. "Y / N ... you know, I was thinking ..."

 "About what?" I turned

"I know you're worried ... I don't want you to worry anymore. I love you, Y / N."

 I smiled. "Me you too, I will not return to you in my life what you have done for us. I owe you this all. Thank you so much."

He sighed in defeat. "You don't have to thank me, Y / N .. I just ... I don't think this in that sense. I ... I love you. I've loved you for a long time ... I was just silent because of Eómer ..."

Am I dreaming? This can not be true!

"Legolas ..." I began, but he interrupted me.

"Don't say anything yet .. I've been thinking about it for a long time ... will you marry me? By marrying me, you will gain all the privilege, you will be safe. I will accept Y / S / N as my son ... just please marry me. " He took my hand and held a ring in it. It was a beautiful gold ring.

I started crying.

I just scared Legolas. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Legolas. I'm crying because ... because I don't love you. I never loved you. I love you as a friend. Like a great friend, but no more .. I'm sorry. I still love Eómer. I wish I was in love with you, but I can't ... take that ring and give it to someone else. That someone else will be happy. "

 Eómer was right. The whole time. And I didn't listen to him.

Legolas was silent. He looked hurt. "Okay, Y / N. It does not matter. And isn't there any chance ...? "

I stopped him. "It's not. Sorry."

 He hid the ring. "But Y / N .. I will still survive this, even if it hurts like hell, but ... you can't hope Eómer returns. It hurts you. He died. You should put up with it!"

I wanted to say something, to defend myself when I heard a low voice behind me.

"He didn't die."

That's not possible .... I turned around. It was him. My husband. He stood there, emaciated, exhausted.

I got up quickly and ran. "Eómer !! You're back !!" This time I cried with happiness.

Eómer hugged me. But he scolded Legolas.

"I'll handle it with you."

 "I'm excited. And I am serious," Legolas growled

"No! No one will fight here, do you understand?" I shouted angrily.

Legolas stood up. "I'll leave you."

 Eómer was still frowning at him, but when he looked at me, there was tenderness in his eyes.

"Y / N .. love ... I missed you very much .."

"Eómer ... I was worried about you ... very much ..." I whispered.

He kissed me slowly. It was a gentle, slow kiss. We had no hurry. When we finished, we were still hugging.

"Come Eómer. I have to feed you. You lost weight. And Y / S / N will be so happy. "

His eyes lit up at the mention of our son's name.

"I'm so glad to have you ... I'll never leave you again. Never," he swore.

I smiled. "I hope so."

Eómer was here for a few days. Fortunately, he didn't argue with Legolas.

"I'm doing it for you Y / N, my wife. Otherwise, I'd... " He shook his head and sighed.

"I'm glad you're doing this. I'm proud of you." I smiled proudly.

"The food is divine, by the way. You're a great cook." he praised me.

"You're still telling me this. Do you still want the food?" I got up when I saw that he had finished eating.

He nodded. "I'm very hungry."

Meanwhile, the son also entered the room and demanded his father's attention. I left him because he wanted his father.

I took his food again, put it on his table, and when he finished eating, I wanted to put the dishes away. He stopped me, he pulled me into his lap.

"Would you leave us with mommy alone, Y / S / N?" Eómer asked him.

I wanted to object, but he stopped me.

"Sure, Dad .. I'm going to see my friends ..." he disappeared quickly.

"Poor boy. You shouldn't have kicked out him like that. He missed you and very much. He kept asking about you." I sighed.

"I have had a lot of time with him and I'll have a lot of time with him, I promise you this, dear. But we weren't alone for a long time.. So I'll eat something else," he said naughtily.

"Eómer." I sighed but didn't object as he began to kiss my neck and collarbone.

"I." kiss on the neck. "Missed." kiss on the chin. "You." kiss on the forehead. "So." kiss on the cheek. "Much." kiss on lips.

"I missed you the way a man missed his wife, Y / N." he muttered between the kisses and leaned me over the table. He rolled up my skirt and stroked my legs.

"Eómer," I sighed. "What did they do to you? Why didn't you write me?" I stroked his hair.

He stopped kissing me. "I couldn't. They forbade me. But I put away every letter. But I was sorry when you stopped writing to me."

"I was worried about you. They said you were dead. And you didn't even write me. So I stopped writing to you. I'm sorry." I fell silent.

He took my hand. "You don't have to be sorry, dear. I thought of you every day. I love you both. I am grateful to have you and to you again because you have given me a son."

"But we have to get out of here. Not to Edoras, but I know one beautiful place ..." he continued.

"Really?" I stroked his wide shoulders.

He nodded. "Seriously. And now we could stop talking and instead ..."

We left in a few days. Legolas was silent, I knew I had hurt him and I was sorry. I knew we would never be as friends again as before.

Legolas hurried to say goodbye to me, apparently unnerved by Eómer's angry gaze. Then I rebuked Eómer for that.

The biggest surprise, however, was King Thranduil himself. It turned out that he knew his son was in love with me and knew that I was not reciprocating his feelings. That's why he behaved the way he did. Protective parent.

I'm not surprised. I would do the same for Y / S / N. I stroked his hair as he held Eómer's hand.

"I wish you good luck," Thranduil said, and I was speechless.

He didn't wait for our reaction, he just left in silence, his long clothes just rubbed on the ground.

"So now we are alone, my family. Come, I will take care of you and I will never leave you." Eómer said and continued.

"I promise you that."

[elvish-sky]

Hello and congrats! 💛 for eomer(i still can't find fics with him...) with 4. from fluff? Thank you!

Thank you, Anon!! If you want to request Eomer stuff I love writing for him and would love to do so!

A.N: Another prompt drabble! Yay!!! (that wasn’t sarcastic I’m honestly having a blast with these!) I think this one is adorable (I’m really in a fluff mood lately for writing, which is odd because I’m loving reading angst right now). I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 354

Pairing: Eomer x Reader, implied Eowyn x Faramir

****

Promise

Sitting on your bed in the room you shared with your husband, you fumed. Your husband had sworn up and down that he would take you riding today, and you had been looking forward to it for weeks. Sure, you could have gone out on your own, but it was more fun with Eomer. And he had forgotten .

You hadn’t bothered to go to dinner, so you knew he would be along soon to check on you. Forgetful as he could be, he was a caring husband.

And there he was. The door opened and he peeked his head through, entering and shutting the door behind him when he saw you.

“My love! You didn’t come to dinner, I was worried.”

“Humph.” You scowled at him and turned your back. “Did you have fun riding today?”

He began changing into his nightclothes. “Yes, we rode out to check on- Oh crap.” He came around to face you, the sorry expression on his face almost comical.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I completely forgot. I’ll make it up to you.”

You humphed again, and he scrambled to come up with something, sitting on the bed next to you with a pleading expression.

“We could, I don’t know, go riding tomorrow? Um… I’ll get you a new horse. Two new horses? I’ll give you Eowyn. Yes. Eowyn. Anything you want, Y/N.”

You laughed at your panicking husband. “Eomer. It’s fine. Besides, Faramir might object to that. Now shut up and hold me.”

He blinked.

“You’re not mad?”

“I mean, I was mad at first, but you’re just absolutely ridiculous so I’m not mad anymore.”

He sighed in relief.

“Do you still want Eowyn?”

“No, you moron.”

“That’s probably good. The two of you together are a force to be reckoned with.”

You smiled at this, settling into his arms as you lay down together. Your back was against his chest, one of his arms slung around your waist, your head tucked under his chin. Comfortable, you sighed in content.

“Promise me we’ll go riding tomorrow?”

You felt his head move as he nodded.

“I promise.”

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16

[guardianofrivendell]

Lost in Translation

Éomer x reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: mentions of certain body parts and a bad ending 

A/N: Wow! Not a Legolas fic? You’re as surprised as I am :) This is just a silly fic I wrote a while ago for another fandom, and I kept thinking how this would be perfect for Éomer. Slightly AU. 

Words in bold are in Elvish.

“Come on, Y/N, hurry up. There’s not much time left!”

You shuffled right behind your friend, muttering profanities and cursing your inability to say no to her. She could’ve carried a few things herself instead of making you drag it all alone. You weren’t her slave. Although you probably were at this point. 

When you entered the kitchen of the castle, you put down all the baskets your friend had made you carry. Before you could say anything, they were already gone, doing who knows what. 

How did you let them trick you into coming along, you thought, shaking your head in annoyance.

Your friend worked in the kitchens of the castle of Rohan, and was in charge of organizing the grand feasts and balls King Théoden held. This morning she had visited you, in the middle of a nervous breakdown because her kitchen staff was sick. You knew there was supposed to be a big ball tonight and now she was left to handle it alone.

You genuinely felt bad for her and really wanted to help, so you made the mistake to ask her what you could do. And that’s how you ended up as her kitchen maid for the evening. No, scratch that. Kitchen slave. 

*

Two hours later everything was ready for the guests to arrive. The food in the kitchen was ready, the tables in the ballroom were set up and the ale and wine were stocked. 

You were wearing a plain dark green dress and your black flats. You had tried to keep your braided hair up with the few hair pins you had. It wasn’t your best shot at a decent hairdo, but it would have to do. It’s not like you really knew the people that were coming tonight. This was a feast for the upper class, and you were definitely not a part of that. 

The guests started to arrive and you anxiously waited in the kitchen with your friend, waiting for her signal to start and walk around with the food.

This was the part you dreaded the most. You weren’t the social type, and to be thrown out there in public, asking strangers if they wanted something to eat was a step too far. 

But you had promised your friend to help her out and you weren’t the one to break a promise. Besides, you would get back at her eventually. She owed you big time after this. 

*

You felt your feet aching when you put down the empty serving plate on the giant table in the center of the kitchen. All the appetizers were served and you were desperate for a break. 

You put your hands on the table and leaned forward, trying to remove the pressure of your feet. If you would allow yourself to sit down, you probably wouldn’t be able to get back up again. It’s not like you were being overdramatic - okay, maybe a little bit - but you weren’t used to standing on your feet for this long. Why was this a good idea again? 

Your friend looked at you sympathetically, but noticed something different. 

“Okay, who caught your eye?” 

You looked at her questioningly, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N, come on! You’re blushing!”

That comment made you blush even more. You looked the other way to try and hide it from your friend, but you should have known she would notice. 

“So you did meet someone? Tell me!”

“No!” you hissed at her. “If I tell you, you would only try and make me go talk to him.”

Before your friend could say anything, you were interrupted by a young nobleman coming into the kitchen. This was highly unusual. 

“Excuse me my lady, would you mind hurrying up with the rest of the food? The guests are waiting,” he asked with a bored expression. 

Your friend smiled at him, gently guiding him out of the kitchen. “Of course my lord. I am sorry for the inconvenience. My servant will open the buffets right away.” 

Servant? Oh, now I’m suddenly the servant. But you had to give it to her, she knew how to work these people. If it were you who had to handle that person, you’d probably rolled your eyes at him and told him you only had two hands to work with, not four. 

“Okay, Y/N. You heard me, go to the tables in the great hall and help the guests serve their food. Whatever you do, don’t leave the food alone. Especially the desserts because I made just about enough for everyone. I’ll help out as soon as I can.”

“Yes, my lady,” you said, making a small curtsy as a joke. 

*

This was something you almost enjoyed. Almost. 

People came to you and you only had to see they didn’t overfill their plate, so there was enough for everyone. If you saw someone having trouble cutting off a slice of meat, you gave them a hand.  You preferred this work over the walking around with appetizers job, because this time you didn’t have to look people in the eye. 

Except with one person of course… 

You had noticed him when you were walking around with your plate. Clumsy as you were, you tripped over your own feet and if it weren’t for him, you had thrown all the stew on the ground. He had grabbed you by your upper arms and steadied you, without spilling one drop of the stew. 

“Wow, quick reflexes,” you gasped, and then your breath hitched because you finally had a good look at your saviour. 

He was tall, but not towering over you. Dark eyes in a gruff, but friendly face. Your eyes trailed from his broad chest, down his forearms and then his hands, which were still holding on to your arms. 

“Are you okay, my lady?” he asked. 

You blinked a couple of times and smiled. “Yeah… Yeah, I am alright. I am sorry, I’m so clumsy!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. 

You held up the plate to him. “Stew?”

After he took one of the bowls, you rushed around handing out the other bowls, your eyes often wandering towards him. Even though he was talking to some of the other guests, he always returned your gaze. When you finally handed out the last one, he winked at you and that made you return to the kitchen with flushed cheeks. 

When he joined the line at the buffet, you started to get nervous. What if your clumsiness made you do something embarrassing again? Oh my god, what if you chucked some gravy on his expensive clothes?

Your hands started sweating and you wiped them off on your dress. He passed you, filling up his plate without asking for assistance, and you were almost disappointed he didn’t take one look at you when he suddenly said, “My name is Éomer.”

You stood there perplexed, not realising at first it was you he was talking to. But when his dark eyes met yours, you answered automatically. 

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiled and walked away with his plate only half full. You followed him with your eyes and forgot you were holding a serving spoon, dropping it to the ground with a loud clatter only a few seconds after. 

Your friend had chosen that moment to come and assist you. She had one eyebrow perked up and you half expected her to tell you off for whatever she thought you were doing wrong, but to your surprise that didn’t happen. 

“Was that him?”

You sighed, shaking your head in response. You should’ve known this was coming. 

“Come on, work with me here,” she said, starting to speak in Elvish. The both of you learned the Elven language when you were young and often switched to it if you wanted to have a secret conversation. Since there weren’t any Elves present, it was safe for them to use it.  You rolled your eyes, there wasn’t anyone there at the buffet so you got away with the gesture. 

“Fine. Okay? Yes, he is the one I was talking about,” you admitted. 

“Well? Go talk to him!”

See? You knew this would happen. 

“I can’t leave the food. The desserts need protection.”

“But there is another dessert waiting for you.” She nodded her head towards Éomer. 

You bit your lip. 

“He is cute though.”

Your friend nodded, a smirk appearing on her face. “Has a nice butt too.”

Your eyes widened at her comment, thanking Eru Illúvatar nobody could understand what she was saying to you. At least, you hoped no one could. 

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to where he was standing, glancing at a particular area. When you looked up again, you saw him staring back at you. You felt your cheeks burning, realising you were caught staring at his butt. You saw your friend barely holding her laughter. 

After a couple of minutes Éomer was lost in the crowd. By that time a lot of guests wanted dessert so you were thankful your friend was there to help you. 

When Éomer joined the line at the end of the buffet, you drew the attention of your friend again with a little wave. 

“He does have a nice butt.”

“It’s probably not the right time for me to say to you that I understand Elvish?” a voice sounded, making your blood run cold.

“Y-you do?” your friend stuttered. 

Éomer grabbed a slice of cake. 

“I had to learn it because we do a lot of business with the Elves of Lórien. It comes in handy once in a while,” he grinned. 

You were still speechless. Your friend noticed and thought she could intervene and ‘help’. 

“Well, then you know Y/N over there thinks you’re really cute.”

He looked at you, his eyes full of mischief. It was adorable. “Does she now?”

He took a bite of his slice of cake, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“She also thinks you have a nice butt,” she added. Éomer almost choked on the piece of cake in his mouth. That’s it, you were going to plan her funeral later tonight. 

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to apologize. 

“Don’t be, I’m flattered,” he laughed. “What do you say, when you’re done here, you want to go and take a walk outside with me and my butt?”

“I’d love to!”

*

When the feast was over and you were almost done cleaning everything up, your friend called you over to the kitchen. 

“I talked to one of the guards just now.”

“And?” you asked, not understanding where she would take this. 

“They always speak Westron when communicating with Lórien,” they whispered. “Éomer doesn’t understand Elvish at all!”

You looked towards the mostly empty hall, where Éomer stood waiting for you. He had an extra cloak hanging over his arm, for you to use on your walk, and was looking towards you. 

“You don’t understand a single thing of what I’m saying to you, do you?” you said to him. He just smiled in return, a slight panic in his eyes. 

“Hey, at least you got a date out of it!” your friend laughed. 

[fangirlinsweden]

December 2020

Down below I will post all the amazing fanfiction I have read during December.

1 ~  An Accidental Confession by @marvelinsanity  ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel In which you decided to a record a message explaining your feelings for Steve in case you didn’t make it out of your mission alive. You don’t have any intention of it actually being heard by him, but you have no other choice to face your fear when it’s accidentally broadcasted across the entire compound.

1  ~  Tangled Love Part 12 by @itsanerdlife  ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader, Marvel

2  ~ Masks and Mischief - Twitter Profiles by @buckysmischief  ❤️ Loki x OC Without the Avengers, or a proper police department, to keep crime at bay, Lilith and other citizens decide it’s up to them to watch over the streets of New York City. // After the deaths of Tony and Natasha, Peter and Yelena decided to both rebrand. The three eventually ran into each other and the chaos never stopped. OR - Lilith has a demon following her around and Loki is the only person who can help.

2  ~  Tangled Love Part 13 by @itsanerdlife  ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader, Marvel

3 ~  Tangled Love Part 14 by @itsanerdlife  ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader, Marvel

4 ~ Ficmas~ Day 1 by @ladyideal  ❤️ John Kennex x Gender Neutral!Reader

4 ~ Ficmas ~ Day 2  by @ladyideal ❤️ Leonard McCoy x Gender Neutral!Reader,  Star Trek AOS

4 ~ Ficmas ~ Day 3  by @ladyideal ❤️ Leonard McCoy x Gender Neutral!Reader,  Star Trek AOS

5 - 6 ~ Did not read any fanfiction these days

7 ~ 25 Days of Christmas: Day 4 by @stuckonjbbarnes  ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel

8  ~ Ficmas ~ Day 5 by @ladyideal ❤️ Jim Kirk  x Gender Neutral!Reader,  Star Trek AOS

8 ~ It’s Not Complicated by @bathed-in-lilac  ❤️ Neal Caffery x Reader, White Collar

9 ~ The Kids Will Be Alright Chapter 1 by @imaginationintowords  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU Bucky and Y/n have been friends for over ten years, since high school. Nothing has ever happened between them until one lonely night a few years ago. That one night left them with a little surprise. They agreed to raise their child together as friends. As their child gets older, as they get older, they’re faced with new challenges as co-parents, and possibly secret feelings (according to their friends).

9 ~ Batman by @kaunis-sielu  ❤️ Avengers x Reader, Marvel

10 ~ Aaron Hotchner Imagine by @fangirlings-things   ❤️ Aaron Hotchner x Reader, Criminal Minds

11  ~  Tangled Love Part 15 by @itsanerdlife  ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader, Marvel

11  ~ Ficmas ~ Day 10 by @ladyideal ❤️ Leonard McCoy x Gender Neutral!Reader,  Star Trek AOS

12 ~ How do you Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 14 by @kaunis-sielu   ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

13 ~ Come Home, Baby by @sweeterthanthis  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel

13 ~ Masks and Mischief part 1 by @buckysmischief   ❤️ Loki x OC!(Lilith), Marvel Social Media AU

13 ~ The Kids Will Be Alright Chapter 2 by @imaginationintowords  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

14 ~ Mistake by @kaunis-sielu  ❤️ Mobster! Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel AU

14  ~  Tangled Love Part 16 by @itsanerdlife  ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader, Marvel

15 ~ The Bet part 1 by @jamielea81  ❤️ Chris Evans x Reader,  The Evans brothers x reader

16  ~ The Bet part 2 by @jamielea81  ❤️ Chris Evans x Reader,  The Evans brothers x reader

17 ~  Did not read any fanfiction this day

18   ~ The Bet part 3 by @jamielea81  ❤️ Chris Evans x Reader,  The Evans brothers x reader

18  ~ Ficmas ~ Day 16 by @ladyideal ❤️ Eomer x Gender Neutral!reader, Lord of the Rings AU

18  ~  Tangled Love Part 17 by @itsanerdlife  ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader, Marvel

19 ~ Approval by @invisibleanonymousmonsters  ❤️ Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader // Damian Wayne x Batmom It’s hard getting the approval of your significant other’s children, especially when one of those children is Damian Wayne.

19 ~ On Pointe part 1 by @kaunis-sielu  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

19  ~ Masks and Mischief part 2 by @buckysmischief   ❤️ Loki x OC!(Lilith), Marvel Social Media AU

20 ~ Day 19: Wrapping Presents by  @squiggledrop ❤️ Spencer Reid x Reader, Criminal Minds

21 ~ A Deal by  @kaunis-sielu   ❤️ Mobster! Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

21  ~ How do you Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 15 by @kaunis-sielu   ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

21 ~ Ficmas ~ Day 21 by @ladyideal ❤️ Leonard McCoy x Gender Neutral!Reader,  Star Trek AOS

22  ~  Did not read any fanfiction this day

23 ~ The Quarantine Diaries Pt7 by  @barnesjamcs ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel

24  ~  Did not read any fanfiction this day

25  ~ The Bet part 4 by @jamielea81  ❤️ Chris Evans x Reader,  The Evans brothers x reader

25 ~ A Christmas Special with Bucky Barnes by @buckysmischief ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel

25  ~ On Pointe part 2 by @kaunis-sielu  ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

25 ~ WHERE THE LOVE LIGHT GLEAMS TWITTER ACCOUNTS by @sunmoonandbucky​  ❤️ ??? x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

26  ~ Masks and Mischief part 3 by @buckysmischief   ❤️ Loki x OC!(Lilith), Marvel Social Media AU

26 ~ Break Up With Your Girlfriend, i have a friend by @mariah-vg​ ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel

27  ~  Did not read any fanfiction this day

28 ~  Did not read any fanfiction this day

29  ~  Tangled Love Part 18 by @itsanerdlife  ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader, Marvel

29 ~ Secret’s Out by  @alloftheimaginesblog​  ❤️ Indiana Jones x Reader

30  ~  Did not read any fanfiction this day

31 ~ Ficmas ~ Day 31 by @ladyideal​   ❤️ John Kennex x Gender Neutral!Reader

[mirclealignr]

[king of rohan]

BLURBS;

nothing yet!

ONESHOTS;

drunken truths

[idjitlili]

Masterlist:

Lord of the rings & the hobbit

Kili Imagines:

Potato peeler

Kiss my ass

Rain

Blah It’s me

Ditto

Firework

Your eyes can be so cruel

Hello there,

Shrimp dick Azog.

Fili Imagines:

Cell mates

Flower crown

The Seth rogen to my James Franco

she’s the man

Eomer Imagines:

Tent= injuries

Who is Jared

They hate us cuz they anus

Legolas Imagines:

Don’t drown princess

I’m Gollum gimme my precious

Let’s boogie

Legolas isn’t my boyfriend

You started it. 

Hey,I’m date mike.

Thranduil Imagines:

Dance off bro

You had sex?

I see stars

Bath

Thorin Imagines:

Virgin 

Damn

Dildo Gaggins

You did nawttt

Heat of the moment

What can I say I like to climb

Hey,my names Korg  {part 2}

Hey there Mr blue sky.

Thor,Son of Odin.

Thorin?No,Thor

The goblin king..the one without the warts.

Faramir Imagines:

Burnt.

Oh let’s just be together then.

Bear.

Proud.

Stop,wait and listen baby,thats my pilosophy.

Boromir Imagines:

Campfire.

clumsy.

Bofur Imagines:

The toy store.

Aragorn Imagines:

Potato buddies.

Oh no, the hobbits Aragorn.

Lindir Imagines:

I’m gonna put some dirt in your eye.

Carol’s cookies.

Bard Imagines:

Gonna need a wheel chair.

swayze.

Marvel Imagines

Loki Imagines:

Hey that’s Hela!Shut up Thorin.

I can be the God of your Orgasm.

Buffy the vampire slayer/Angel

Spike Imagines:

Don’t stop me now.

You’re dead , Lachance.

The Labyrinth

Jareth Imagines:

Lurking in the dark

You underestimate my power.

We could be heroes.

Star wars

Obi-wan imagines:

Hello there,

Why did you kidnap Jareth?

C-changes

No longer the Seth rogen to my James Franco...

The mandalorian

Din Djarin imagines:

I, I will be king. (I) (II)

Resident Evil

Leon s. Kennedy imagines:

Smells like jealousy

(Comingsoon I SWEAR)

Stranger things

Billy Hargrove imagines:

Bulltrue (part 2 coming sòon)

Billy Joels ass.

You make me breakout.

Point break.

The wrong type of charmer

Idle hands are the devils playground.

Steve Harrington Imagines:

The wrong type of charmer.

Rather read these on a different site?

•Ao3

•Wattpad

•Quotev

WHAT I WON'T WRITE:

Probably should mention,I won’t write incest and such,aswell as pregnancy ,or children{I know I have wrote a pregnant imagine before but I just don’t like writing them} Nor will I write imagines where the reader is a child ,or with anything other than Y/n.

PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARISE MY SHITTY FANFICTIONS, please.

Characters I would prefer to write about this moment:

Billy hargrove

Dean winchester?

Which they all will be x reader so everyone can enjoy, thank you my dudes. Have a bodacious day.