#lotr eomer

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hii I like your writings! If you're still taking requests, can you write something about Eomer and the female reader? The reader is Aragorn's older sister. A ranger and a renowned warrior. After Eomer personally meets the owner of the stories he's been hearing for years, he may begin to fall in love with her. If you write, thank you in advance, if you don't I totally understand, no problem.~

Greetings, Anon! I'm SO sorry it took me so long to get to this request. It has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute. Thank you so much for reaching out and dropping this off. I hope you enjoy this little thing I put together.

A Sudden Spark

Éomer x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: mild suggestive themes, slight canon-divergence, fluff, yearning, crush at first sight

Word Count: 1.4k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

The Great Shadow is fading.

Evil is not gone. It is simply receding, lingering in the farthest reaches, waiting for the final blow of steel that will eventually come. There is a brightness that stretches over everything like a warm blanket draped across the shoulders. It is as if the Sun returned after a long sleep.

Éomer breathes deep, allowing the brilliance of sunshine and the floral aroma on the wind to fill his lungs. A peace settles over him, a gentleness that extinguishes all ache from the last few months. Éomer is battle-weary. He lost his uncle, and nearly lost his sister.

A few years of peace are what he and everyone needs.

Turning away from the Pelennor Fields, Éomer reenters the feast hall of Merethrond. Taking up residence beside a tall, white pillar, Éomer observes the crowd around him, drinking from his mead cup. Everyone is in a celebratory mood. As they should be.

The battle is over. Gondor has a king. And yet, there is still so much to do.

Éomer celebrates along with them. The mead is delicious if a bit strong, and he has a tender urge to experience life. A fair maiden with lovely lips and curves would surely satiate that subtle hunger.

But darkness and duty lurk in the back of his mind. The bright sunshine and fresh air only quieted it for a moment. Rohan is without a king. Éomer will take up the title. He has not officially been crowned but it will happen after all of this is done. From this point on, Éomer must serve his people in more ways than he has previously. While he has always been a ferocious fighter and a skilled rider, the politics of ruling will become a new burden.

Éowyn will support him, but for how long? She is currently tangled up in Faramir’s arms, the two of them moving across the floor in a dance that sends the bottom of her dress spinning. Her smile is wide and pure, cheeks lightly flushed from exertion and most certainly from the beginnings of love. Faramir’s smile is just as wide and bold, their gazes locked on one another as if there is no one else in the room.

No. Éomer will not always have his sister. It appears that he will lose her to another sooner rather than later. But he is not upset. If anything, he is happy for her. She deserves so much, especially after all they’ve lost.

That leaves only him. He too will need someone at his side that is more than simple counsel. Éomer will need a wife. That is the reality of things. Someone for him to love and to love him in return, to birth his children, to listen and give advice, and to assist in taking care of the realm. While it is a duty, Éomer deeply longs for companionship.

But all this responsibility subdues the celebratory mood. It slots his thoughts into all that must be done on his return to Edoras.

Éomer is happy for Aragorn. He is happy that Gondor has a king, and that Gondor will be a great ally. He is happy that Aragorn has reunited with the woman he loves, and that the lands are no longer scarred by darkness and death.

He takes a long swig of his mead, leaning harder against the pillar as he observes the dancers in the middle of the hall. The mead is strong and sinking into his bones. The buzz is sharp in his blood.

“Not joining in?” The feminine voice draws Éomer’s attention away from the dancing couples and to the end of his right shoulder.

Éomer freezes, his mead cup halfway to his mouth. The woman standing next to him smiles sweetly. Your gentle beauty is soft and inviting. As Éomer continues to stare, that sweetness morphs into amusement, and that one look sends a little shiver up his spine to slice through his heart.

When he doesn’t answer, you arch a single eyebrow, and Éomer hastily clears his throat.

“Not for me,” he admits, immediately drinking some of his mead.

“Dancing?”

Are you asking him? It feels like you are but Éomer hasn’t always been successful about understanding a woman’s signals when she’s interested. Usually, Éomer is the one approaching.

Éomer nods because he doesn’t trust his voice. He might choke on his words this time instead of a simple cough.

There is a stretch of silence before you speak again. “But you are celebrating.” You nod toward his cup. Éomer briefly glances at your empty hands.

“And you are not partaking,” he comments.

You laugh. “The Lord of the Mark is observant,” you tease, smile stretching toward your ears.

Another stretch of silence, and your eyebrows start to rise toward your hairline, head tilting slightly. Éomer blinks and then heat rushes up his cheeks.

By the Gods, he should have realized sooner.

Éomer pushes off from the pillar, straightening his shoulders and back, smoothing the front of his formal tunic. “Would you—”

“Yes,” you reply automatically, eagerly reaching for him.

Your hand is warm in his. Éomer follows, allowing you to lead, dropping his drink somewhere on a random table before entering the crowd of dancers. The music is upbeat and light. Éomer wouldn’t call himself graceful, but he did grow up learning traditional dances for this very reason.

But you continue to lead, and somehow that is comforting. Éomer is always prepared to take charge and make decisions. He does none of that now. You are smiling, clasping his hand, this stranger that has suddenly captured all his attention.

Perhaps forgetting for a bit is a good thing.

Éomer goes through two dances with you before the music slows a bit. Before, he hardly had a chance to speak, but now the two of you are close together, bodies pressed tight. He briefly glances over your shoulder and notices Arwen’s smile. She is watching him, and you. His gaze falls to the man beside her.

There is a slight frown on Aragorn’s face. Why is he frowning? Why does he appear concerned?

“You know my name but I’m afraid I do not know yours,” says Éomer, his face slightly tilted toward your own.

You give it casually and Éomer blanches. He knows that name. He knows who you are.

For the time he’s known Aragorn, Éomer has heard the stories from others, never from the man himself. He keeps you secret, not leaning into the tales told about you. You are his sister, the elder but not by much. But you are not soft and delicate, or so Éomer has been told.

You are daring. Adventurous. A fierce warrior and Ranger. You wield sword and bow with gracefulness and deadly aim. Éomer had heard that the Rangers came during the battle, but he did not see you. Then again, Éomer was far too busy trying to keep himself and his fellow Rohirrim alive.

The image he built of you in his head does not match the woman before him. The way you match his every step and how your hands feel against him, all speak to gentler things. Before him is a sweet and soft woman, but as he peers closer, Éomer notices the subtle shifts of your movements. There is a warrior’s grace to the fluidity of your body against his and with every leading step.

There is power within you along with the soft.

Éomer’s heart suddenly snags, stuttering before becoming a pounding drumbeat. When you turn your smile back to him all coherent thought leaves his brain except one.

She’d be a fierce queen.

The music swells and then melts away, and you release Éomer to step back and bow deeply. Éomer mimics the movement. When the two of you straighten, it is at the exact same time, and then you step far too close for a stranger.

“This is where we part,” you murmur, soft lips forming the words yet also sending Éomer’s brain into a foggy scramble.

You incline your head and begin to draw away. Like a lightning strike, Éomer moves into the space you just occupied, snatching your wrist to pull you close.

Your lips part in surprise, chest heaving slightly. Éomer’s gaze drops to the exposed tops of your breasts.

“This is where we part,” he repeats, gaze returning to your face. “For now.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[captain-kaou]

Ride for ruin and the world’s ending !

DEATH !

FORTH EORLINGAS!

(And the reference picture I’m sorry I totally forgot to add it )

[maplesleep]

Horse girl Éomer ❤️

[leighsartworks216]

I present to you:

The Karl Urban Hair Scale (based on a convo with my friend)

[mithrandirl]

Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him.

[allsortsoffuckedup]

I think the absolute worst crime committed by the original LOTR movie trilogy was only putting the scene where Eomer finds Eowyn after the Battle of Pelennor Fields in the extended editions. Karl Urban at his absolute fucking best

[emilybeemartin]

On today's episode of LotR AU: Boromir Lives, it's after the battle of Pelennor Fields! There are so many great possibilities to explore when Boromir finally, finally returns to Minas Tirith--- making the agonizing decision to follow Aragorn through the Paths of the Dead instead of going straight to the city with Theoden, fighting like a demon outside the gates, learning about his father's death, and then choosing to leave again to accompany Aragorn to the Black Gate, but right now it's WHUMP TIME.

Obviously, first up is Faramir. If Boromir is with Aragorn, he won't enter the city until after the battle, and so he wouldn't know anything about Faramir's flight from Osgiliath or the pyre in the tombs.

In the few days between the battle and leaving for the Black Gate, I envision Boromir operating on undiluted adrenaline as the wounded and dead are tended. Who needs food? Who needs sleep? Not Boromir. He's returned to his city at its lowest possible moment and he's going to DO EVERYTHING TO FIX EVERYONE ALL AT ONCE.

The scene where Pippin finds Merry wounded and dazed and wandering the streets, has always been a favorite of mine and was one of the first LotR illustrations I ever did ~20 years ago. In the book, Gandalf is the one who comes to carry Merry up to the Houses of Healing. In this AU, you know it's Boromir.

Anyway, eventually Legolas and Gimli probably have to force some rudimentary self-care.

Boromir Lives AU: Aragorn's Coronation

Boromir Lives AU: Faramir and Eowyn's Wedding

[g-m-kaye]

"Éowyn was slender and tall, with a grace and pride that came to her out of the South from Morwen of Lossarnach, whom the Rohirrim had called Steelsheen."

(Appendix A "The House of Eorl")

Éowyn with Shadowfax in the lush meadows of Rohan @megarywrites @sotwk :)

[sindar-princeling]

And he looked at the slain, recalling their names. Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him. 'Éowyn, Éowyn!' he cried at last. 'Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!'

i've said it before and i'll say it again: thank you Karl Urban for going absolutely insane with this scene in the movie

[rijwater]

Just read The Two Towers, and right now I am absolutely obsessed with the fact that l, when the company encounters the Riders of Rohan, Eomer is like:

"You're *who*? That's not real, that's a legend."

"Wait, the Lady of the Lake is real and not a fairytale?"

"What the fuck is a hobbit?"

And later when the Riders encounter Ents, everyone is like, "Trees can talk? What the FUCK?"

Look at that face in the picture. That is the face of a person that does not believe any of this fantasy shit. Absolute normal person energy, and I absolutely love this.

[masterelrond]

@lotr20 | Day 5 ↳ Loss: Éomer losing Éowyn

Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him,so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him. 'Éowyn, Éowyn!' he cried at last. 'Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!'

[missmargaretcarter]

Can I just say how much I enjoy that almost everyone in Lord of the Rings is an adult. Like a grown ass adult. I do realize the hobbits are relatively young for their species, but there’s no chosen one teenagers, they’re not a group of random twenty something’s who also happen to somehow be geniuses, no childlike drama or super honed abilities that have somehow only been developed before high school. Just a bunch of old, weary adults getting shit done, honing their craft after years and years and being badass regardless of age.

Editing for the new folks reblogging: Pippin is the exception this. I mentioned the hobbits are young for their species, with Pippin being the youngest. Still, the main idea is that overall, this isn’t a YA novel with all twenty-something protagonists.

[s-u-w-i]

Another seven 🌼 The handsome guys never quite turn out the way I want, it's so much easier to draw orcs and creatures...

Also, I’ve decided I'll be selling the originals after I finish all the drawings (that means after Easter). But if there is any character you'd like to have in particular you can start reserving them now. By messaging me here or on s.u.w.i@email.cz :^)

Goldberry isn't taken yet!

The prices are from 50 to 80USD (shipping included). And same as last year with the dog drawings this year also all the earnings will be sent to charities.

More characters here and here!

[mithrandirl]

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking: Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!

part 1, lotr quotes

[aosmccoy]

the lotr trilogy are the best movies on earth but one thing i’ll never forgive them is the complete lack of aragorn and éomer friendship. i know i already made a post abt it but i honestly cannot believe these two talked One time in the movies while in the books they became literal besties. what do you mean they promised they’ll fight together, draw swords together, upon literally their first meeting, then repeated the same promise later again and again. what do you mean “Since the day when you rose before me out of the green grass of the downs I have loved you, and that love shall not fail.” what do you mean “And wherever King Elessar went with war King Éomer went with him; and beyond the Sea of Rhûn and on the far fields of the South the thunder of the cavalry of the Mark was heard, and the White Horse upon Green flew in many winds until Éomer grew old.” LIKE HELLO?????