#Éothain

[themoonlily]

How Éomer and Lothíriel's wedding probably went

Éowyn: storms in a month before the wedding and arranges the whole thing, is somehow prepared for and does resolve a dozen various crises behind the scenes while the bride and the bride-groom remain oblivious

Amrothos: annoying pranks during the stag night; is the cause of at least one or two crises, Éothain locks him up in a cupboard somewhere in Meduseld

Elphir and/or Erchirion: a lot of threats aimed at the bride-groom that are progressively less and less veiled; be good to her or else...!

Arwen: emotional support for the bride, the bride-groom, and occasionally father of the bride; will hold the bride-groom's hand to keep him calm

Aragorn: the Dad Friend who will give good advice and maybe help to adjust some piece of clothing just before ceremony; is instrumental to resolving at least a few crises behind the scenes

Éothain: will help to arrange a quick getaway when guests get annoying and has several cupboards ready to act as cells; shares a lot of embarrassing stories but also secretly cries during the ceremony

Faramir: makes a toast everyone will talk about for years to come; will hold the bride's hand to help with the nerves

Imrahil: is happy he doesn't need to deal with the incessant pining anymore; has not had a day off since last year and he is going to just enjoy this, thank you very much

#Éomer #Eomer #Lothiriel #Lothíriel #Éowyn #Amrothos #Elphir #Erchirion #Arwen #Aragorn #Éothain #Faramir #Imrahil #headcanon #text #Éothiriel #eomer x lothiriel

[ebaeschnbliah]

We both have need of haste ...

... Eomer said. 'My company chafes to be away, and every hour lessens your hope. This is my choice. You may go; and what is more, I will lend you horses. This only I ask: when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Théoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my very life, in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail.'

'I will not,' said Aragorn.

There was great wonder, and many dark and doubtful glances, among his men, when Éomer gave orders that the spare horses were to be lent to the strangers; but only Éothain dared to speak openly.

'It may be well enough for this lord of the race of Gondor, as he claims,' he said, 'but who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a Dwarf?'

'No one,' said Gimli. 'And do not trouble: no one will ever hear of it. I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged.'

'But you must ride now, or you will hinder us,' said Aragorn.

'Come, you shall sit behind me, friend Gimli, said Legolas. Then all will be well, and you need neither borrow a horse nor be troubled by one.'

A great dark-grey horse was brought to Aragorn, and he mounted it. 'Hasufel is his name,' said Éomer. 'May he bear you well and to better fortune than Gárulf, his late master!'

A smaller and lighter horse, but restive and fiery, was brought to Legolas. Arod was his name. But Legolas asked them to take off saddle and rein. 'I need them not,' he said, and leaped lightly up, and to their wonder Arod was tame and willing beneath him, moving here and there with but a spoken word: such was the elvish way with all good beasts. Gimli was lifted up behind his friend. and he clung to him, not much more at ease than Sam Gamgee in a boat.

'Farewell, and may you find what you seek!' cried Éomer. 'Return with what speed you may, and let our swords hereafter shine together!'

'I will come,' said Aragorn.

'And I will come, too,' said Gimli. 'The matter of the Lady Galadriel lies still between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech. '

'We shall see,' said Éomer. 'So many strange things have chanced that to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf's axe will seem no great wonder. Farewell!'

With that they parted. Very swift were the horses of Rohan. When after a little Gimli looked back, the company of Éomer were already small and far away. Aragorn did not look back: he was watching the trail as they sped on their way, bending low with his head beside the neck of Hasufel.

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers,  The Riders of Rohan

#the lord of the rings #the two towers #the riders of rohan #jrr tolkien #rohan #aragorn #legolas #gimli #eomer #arod #hasufel #peter jackson #extended edition #movie pics

[tathrin]

Okay Rohan-centric fandom, talk to me about Éothain.

I want your headcanons, your metas, your hot-takes, your weird "I read this fic once and haven't been able to get this idea out of my head since even though it has no basis in canon at all" ideas.

I've seen folks muse on the fact that he might be related to the House of Eorl himself given how he acts towards/around Éomer in his one scene, or perhaps is second-in-command of the éored; I've seen takes where he was one of the folks most taken-in by Wormtongue; I've seen others where he's super-loyal to Rohan and Éomer both and is trying real hard to keep Éomer from getting into trouble by helping the Three Hunters in violation to Théoden's commands and in fact his main role in life is "try (and fail) to keep Éomer out of trouble"...

But I haven't quite decided what direction to run with him in the Celebrimbor Fellowship AU I'm writing. So if anyone has thoughts on the lad they want to share in order to influence said depiction (or just because they have some passionate thoughts about this dude who shoes up once in the story, disses our heroes, and then vanishes, and they relish any excuse to scream about him), please do so now!

#eothain #rohan #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr drafts #celebrimbor fellowship au #my stuff

[asoiaf-fancasts]

Viserys Targaryen - Fancasts

Age: 21/22

05 - 07 [Tourney to End of War]

Appearance: He was small as a child and never grew to be taller than his older brother. He has pale skin, silver-blonde hair and pale lilac eyes and is gaunt. He has a hard lines on his face and has a feverish look in his eyes.

Name: Hali

Actor: Ryan Henson

Show: Vickings [2013] [Season 5 & 6]

[Unknown age, plays an 8 year old. He’s a couple years too young for the older actress of his sister to be Daenerys but both still work. He is a small boy with pale skin and silver-blonde hair. He wears Norse ish clothes.]

Character: Éothain [Younger]

Actor: Sam Comery

Movie: The Lord of the Rings: The Twin Towers [2002]

[Unknown Age, looks to be around 12/13. So, given the actress’s age of who plays his sister (11) the age gap is a bit off for him and Daenerys. It would be good for him around when they leave the house with the red door.He is pale and small but his hair is unfortunately not a dirty blonde even though it’s pale ish. He wears medieval ish clothes.]

Character: Perkin Warbeck

Actor: Patrick Gibson

Show: The White Princess [2017]

[He was 21/22 during this show so good for him during the first book. He is tall but not quite 6 foot. He is pale with a thin but not gaunt face and his hair is unfortunately a dirty light ish golden colour. He wears 15th century clothes.]

Character: King Arthur

Actor: Jamie Campbell Bower

Show: Camelot [2011]

[He was 22/23 during this show so around the right age at the end of the book but slightly too old. He is pale, gaunt looking with hair that is more a dirty blonde than a silver-blonde.He has a feverish look in his eyes in some scenes and has faint lines on his face but not hard.He wears medieval ish clothes.]

#please suggest other fancasts #viserys targaryen #viserys targaryen fancast #viserys targaryen fancasts #asoiaf fancast #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #fancast resource #game of thrones

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

There is a story about four daughters seeking the love of their father the king. It does not end well for them. One banished, two dead, one mad. There is a story about a king demanding the love of his four daughters. It dos not end well for him. Tolerated, secretly resented, he dies without them at his bedside. Only the one son. And he there for the crown and a father’s blessing, a father’s ring.

‘Reads like a legend,’ Éomer remarks to Éothain. They have returned to Edoras and Éomer is still waiting for Théodred to make good on all those promises for men that never seem to materialize. He wonders if Gríma has something to do with it. Whenever he questions Wyrmtunga he gets dithering or denial or confusion.

‘Dangerous path, that.’

‘What?’

‘Mapping legends too closely to our own lives. Families can be vicious to each other,’ Éothain replies. ‘Who knows best how to rip one another to shreds than mothers and fathers? Sisters and brother?’

‘Cousins,’ Éomer mutters. Leofstan has trotted out of Meduseld looking bright eyed and bushy tailed.

‘Cousins,’ Éothain agrees. ‘But don’t go and do something stupid like think you’re fated or in a myth or legend. Also don’t go and do something stupid like alienate your cousin. Either of them. Also don’t go and do something stupid like get Gríma’s back up about things so he starts pestering your more than he pesters Théodred.’

‘I would never do any of that.’

Éothain lifts an eyebrow, drinks his ale. They’re watching people corral into one of the large fields outside Meduseld that is lying dormant this season and it is where the midsummer fire and festivities are to be held. A few goats penned in for the later sacrifices to the landwights and dísir. Gríma said to Éomer that morning, I think the little one with the twisty horns will do well for us all. And Éomer replied, Small, ornery, and dressed in blacks? We should chuck you in, too. See if the gods like that. Gríma had replied with silence and a withering expression of: really Éomer? that is the best you can do? Éomer, chuffed, laughed at him.

Eomer and Grima, no matter the iteration of the universe or story they are in, are just Like That all the time. 

#what makes a kynge #aka the team up and scheme story #eomer: hur hur hur what if we sacrificed you for midsummer. would do wonders for the country no doubt. #Grima: go. away. #Eothain: please stop trying to start fights for two minutes. please. #Eomer: shan't. #lotr #lord of the rings #writing #grima wormtongue #eomer

[dogblessyoutascha]

Okay. Hear me out…

How the LotR/The Hobbit/tRoP guys react to their partner asking how they are after they've been kicked in the nuts:

"I need you to fuck it better." - Boromir, Hirgon, Isildur, Merry, Sauron, Elladan, Elrohir

"I mean, if you want to suck it better, I won't say no…" - Elendil, Adar, Legolas, Elrond, Pippin, Haldir, Bofur, Fredegar Bolger, Halbarad

"A kiss would help the healing process tremendously." - Thranduil, Aragorn, Kili, Imrahil, Ori, Gandalf, Grima, Samwise, Galion, Dori, Tom Bombadil, Halbrand

"I'm fine, just give me a minute." - Bard, Faramir, Bilbo, Théoden, Balin, Celeborn, Radagast, Frodo, Feren, Percy, Bombur, Oin, Bill Ferny, Arondir, Rumil, Orophin

"What do you think?! They tried to break the family jewels!" - Fili, Gimli, Gloin, Éomer, Éothain, Glorfindel, The Master, Bifur, Nori, Durin IV, Valandil, Ontamo

"Don't fucking touch me." - Thorin, Dwalin, Denethor II, Saruman, Beorn, Alfrid, Braga, Pharazôn

#the hobbit #lotr #trop #lord of the rings #the rings of power #i'm sick and being an idiot but i actually had a lot of fun with this #feel free to debate me/add anyone I missed

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

***

Chapter 2

Éomer King really -really- wished he could put his hands around his wife’s pale neck and…

Do nothing. He wasn’t that type of man. He’d never put his hands on his wife -or any other woman, as a matter of fact -in violence.

Even if Lothíriel was seriously testing his patience, he’d never hurt her. Maybe just a light spanking…

No. He couldn’t do that to a princess -now his Queen -the daughter of a good friend. Even if she did deserve it.

What had she been thinking when she sent him that letter?

He’d been so furious that Éothain had actually thought they were under attack. His friend had even pulled his sword and looked around wildly, only to find nothing. Éomer had barked an order and had Firefoot brought immediately to him. He didn’t even know how he got to Edoras alive. (He did know; Firefoot was a very well trained horse.)

And he’d come all the way so fucking furious with Lothíriel. How dare she? How could a Queen -his wife! -write such improprieties to her HUSBAND?

He had no idea what she planned with this stunt, but he was going to get to the bottom of it as soon as he saw her.

And then, there she was, calm as ever. Embroidering, not a care in the world.

Throwing his absence in his face.

And sure, he hadn’t been a present husband. He didn’t know how to deal with the situation and with her.

Lothíriel was supposed to solve a problem. Instead she became a bigger one.

When Éomer became a king -a position he’d never been prepared for -the Mark was in chaos. Not only because of the war and its destructive ways, but also because of Gríma’s and Saruman’s influence. Only once he was sitting on the throne and getting reports did Éomer truly understand the damage done to his country.

There was also a lot of concern related to heirs. Even though Éowyn was still quite well, some of the lords were worried about the fact that she was married to the Prince of Ithilien, and what would it mean if she had to sit on the throne.

Apparently people thought he could die at any given moment.

Éomer was in no hurry to marry -all things considered -but it became clear that it’d be for the best to just get it over with. However, as soon as he declared he’d marry, the lords were pushing their daughters, sisters and nieces at Éomer. They all seemed to think they had the best bride to offer.

It became a problem because lords from the Eastfold believed the Queen should hail from there, the lords from the Westfold believed one of their ladies should be the Queen. It’d turned into an actual situation, because Éomer knew that choosing one place over the other would cause resentment.

After talking to Aragorn, he’d thought he'd found the perfect solution: he’d marry a woman from Gondor. That meant he wasn’t showing ‘preference’ over any region in the Mark, and it’d also solidify the alliance with the country.

That was how he came to know Lothíriel and they eventually married.

He should be proud, because their marriage had unified the Mark. As in, everybody fucking hated it.

According to some people it’d have been better if he’d chosen one region over the other than bringing a Gondorian to be his Queen. Nobody was happy with this marriage, and eventually, neither was him.

He did know it was his choice -he wasn’t an idiot. He also knew it wasn’t Lothíriel’s fault, it was just… She should’ve been the solution, and she wasn’t.

He hadn’t even wanted to marry. At all. He had so much to do, so many concerns, so much grief, and no one cared about those things. No one cared that a Marshall had just lost his entire family and suddenly became responsible for the whole country.

It felt like no one cared about him at all. He didn’t resent Éowyn for leaving. He was happy for her, because no one deserved love and peace more than her. However, her leaving so soon hadn’t made things any better.

At some point, after marrying Lothíriel, he’d just… Given up. He focused on his work and ignored the marriage that’d brought him nothing but headache.

And yes, he did know Lothíriel had nothing to do with his problems, he knew she tried, but it was just easier to stay away from her and act like she wasn’t really there.

If that made him a asshole then… What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with her?

No. This wasn’t right. If his dear wife thought she could play games like this with him, she was out of her mind.

It was time to show her who ruled the house.

He should probably write to Éowyn.

#madame baggio #gifs not mine #posted on ao3 #fanfiction #the lord of the rings #eomer #lothiriel #eomer x lothiriel #dearest husband

[wildernessquest]

Éothain of the Wyldwood Rangers.

Below are some edited photos of my OC Éothain and his companions, taken at Herofest in May and July 2023.

Above is Éothain and Harlan, another member of the Wyldwood Rangers. Resting on Harlan's shoulder is Narráma, Éothain's docile baby dragon pet whom he found when first entering the Pendragon Woods.

The Wyldwood Rangers have been known to use Flameblade, an ancient magic with the power to ignite ones blade. Pictured above is Éothain, wielding this magic as he charges into battle.

The Wyldwood Rangers. Pictured at Herofest 2023.

From left to right, top to bottom: Theodore, Sigfrid, Riker, Dagrin, Oncle, Maya, Jagg, Dobby, Haldir, Keitha, Éothain & Vildar.

#larp costume #roleplay #the lord of the rings #larp stuff #larp oc #larp kit #larp character #dnd #herofest #medieval #fantasy #high fantasy #live action role play #ranger #Dragon #camping

[wordspin-shares]

For the 'Learn More About my WIP' ask game! ^_^ 👑, 🦀, ❄️ and 🤔 for Edged in Silver.

(I can't always ask for From the Sidelines lol)

Thank you! <3 (Oh, yes you can; feel free!)

👑 A random fact about one of my OCs

A random fun fact: Idrin can't cook. She can help with small tasks in the kitchen, but actually cooking is beyond her. One of the downsides of being born into nobility and having others cook for you.

🦀 A favourite piece of dialogue

From a future chapter:

"So many things we think will never come to pass, and yet yesterday the improbable occurred: the battle was won," Húron continued. "And the lost heir of Isildur shall claim the throne of Gondor, if he be not a figment of the imagination conjured in the wake of our victory," he added skeptically, looking up at the White Tower and the banner of Dol Amroth that flapped listlessly in the breathless breeze.

Silently listening to the two men talk, Idrin now sat straighter. "He is very much real," she said. "Had I not seen him lift the Black Shadow from Faramir, I too would have doubted him."

The retired Gondorian captain looked at her, quiet, but Éothain's lip twitched and a glimmer flickered in his eyes, one eyebrow quivering. "The Ranger from the North... King of Gondor. He has a bright sword, yea, and his bearing and speech are lofty, yet the line of Kings failed hundreds of years ago, 'tis said. Any man belonging to a branch of that forgotten kin could lay a high claim to the throne of Gondor."

Húron gazed at him. "Were you born a Gondorian, you would have learnt tales and legends that tell how the true King is known," he returned. "Doubtlessly there is a reason why this man's existence was kept a secret, and the truth of his birthright shall certainly be put to the test."

❄️ Toughest aspect of my WIP

It's not the tons of research or languages, it's actually writing Idrin herself. Or more precisely, trying to strike a balance between her haughtiness at times and her not becoming offensive. Being born to privilege, she has developed a certain pride, but she was taught to be courteous. So, finding that balance in those instances when the story calls for it can be a real challenge.

🤔 What’s the inspiration behind my WIP

Simply put, that gem of a line in The History of Middle-earth that reads: “[Denethor II] was first son and third child of Ecthelion …”

I had begun entertaining the thought of creating an original character that might fit into LotR's timeline without disrupting canon, long before reading HoMe, but I couldn't find a place for her. There were no plot-holes that the inclusion of a new character could address, no insufficiently explored characters who could benefit from the presence of an OC while having the plot tie into canon smoothly. I couldn’t see how I could create a main lead who would solidly impact canon without being a second daughter of Elrond/Galadriel/whomever, or a daughter of Denethor, or a protégé of Aragorn, or a disciple of Gandalf.

And then I read HoMe and came across that line. A quite perfect piece of history that was never included in any “official” narrative and never discarded either.

Since Denethor had siblings, it would be entirely possible that those siblings had children. And those children could be part of the story, filling roles that are expected to exist for things to run smoothly but are not mentioned, adding to the plot from backstage without altering anything.

Inspiration found.

— Learn More About my WIP.

#ff answered #lotr | edged in silver

[wolverina2002]

To Edoras

A drafted scene that didn´t make it into the final work for the AU, but Iv like it well enough to post it here.

Alea peels off from the three hunters after they leave Eomer and his Eodred behind, Silmaril cheerfully tossing his head and straining nervously against the reins. Alea lets them slip through her fingers, just barely catching them with her fingertips.

Smoke on the horizon, Fion´d told her.

Not ahead, towards Fangon, but westward. It could be a lot of things, from a small bushfire to another raiding party of Uruk-hai, even with an Eodred having cleaned up recently. Especially after Eomer and his men have broken up a huge band of that foul folk recently, if there are survivors around, Alea will have to take care of them. She gently touches her heels to Silmaril´s flanks and her black stallion streches into a swift gallop across the grassland. The grass is chest high here, parting before Silmaril like waves before the bow of a ship. Alea leans over his neck and makes herself light as mile upon mile vanishes under her steed´s gray hooves. Gawad runs along with them, head held low to the ground and ears up, alert to everything moving on the plain. High above, Fion sweeps.

Hours pass and the sun begins to set. Alea wonders how far her brother and his friends have come by now. Have they reached Fangorn by now?

Silmaril tossing his head and letting out a shrill neigh rips her out of her thoughts. She takes the reins up tighter and moves with her horse as he jumps fluidly across a small creek. Ahead of her, in the rising dark, she can see the shape of another horse, it´s rider small and scrawny. A child, and a deeply frightend one at that. Alea catches Silmaril´s run and slows her stallion down to a stop right next to the children.

"Hello", she greets them in the tounge of this land, "My name is Starwind, or at least that is what your people call me in your tounge. I´m called Alea in Westron, and what are your names?"

The boy looks downright frightend, but his eyes latch desperatly onto a competent adult. The girl squeaks when Gawad meanders over to sniff her but then giggles as he licks her face.

"M Éothain, and that´s my sister Freda. Mother said to ride to Edoras and tell them ... tell them about ...."

He hiccups and Alea can figure out what happend.

"Your village?"

Éothain nods, bravely fighting tears. Alea guides Silmaril next to his gelding and rests a hand on the boy´s shoulder.

"What´s your horse called, Éothain?", she asks gently, hoping to distract him.

"His name´s Gárulf, and m not actually supposed to ride him, father says he´s too big for me, n he´s right! Freda fell off an now I can´t get her because Gárulf´s too big ...."

Éothain sobs and burries his face in the gelding´s mane. Gárulf huffs and noses Silmaril´s neck, content for the moment. Alea slides off, her shoulder cape falling heavy across her side as she kneels next to Freda. Gawad still stands by her, letting himself be pet.

"He´s very sweet", Freda declares, focussed on the unusually docile wolf rather than the traumatic events of the day.

Alea smiles and ruffles her hair.

"That he is."

Suddenly, Silmaril tosses his head up, rearing up a bit and nipping Gárulf in the hindquarter. The gelding whinnies nervously and trots, heading west and south. Éothain yelps and tries to stop him, but Alea has already heard what alerted Silmaril.

"Wolves. Freda, you´ll ride Silmaril with me, he can easily carry both of us."

Freda nods, eyes wide and frightend as Alea wraps her arms around the girls chest from behind. Silmaril kneels like a well-trained dressage horse at the click of her tounge and she settles Freda in the saddle before whirling around and drawing an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Gawad snarls as he stands behind her, Silmaril bolting after Gárulf. Alea draws, aims at one of the glimmering points of amber in the dark and lets the arrow fly.

The ward goes down with a howl and the pack disperses, suddenly weary of a prey that bites back. Alea doesn´t allow herself to get involved in a fight if they can simply outrun it and storms after Silmaril, whisteling for Gawad along the way.

"To Edoras, Silmaril", she calls as she hoists herself into the saddle.

#fanfiction #the two towers #rohirrim #artwork #I MADE A THING #well #with a template and stuff #BUT I MADE THIS

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Finding new words

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/NuD84we

by Sliven

A continuation to "The King's Mercy"

In due time, Éomer shall marry the lady Lothiriel. How will this affect the relations built with a man who was once a traitor?

Of the past and the future.

Words: 1949, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of The King's Mercy

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Gríma Wormtongue, Éomer Éadig, Éothain (Rider of Rohan), Original Rohirrim Character(s), Gamling (Tolkien)

Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Gríma Wormtongue

Additional Tags: Slash, Lemon, AU, Plot, world building, slow, LOTR, relationships

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/NuD84we

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

[queenclaudiabrown]

I would like to correct a misconception.

For those of you who don’t know, the Bechdel test is a creative writing sort of tool. To pass the Bechdel test, two or more women, both with names, need to exchange dialogue about anything other than a man/boy.

The misconception is that all three Lord of The Rings movies don’t pass.

False: The Two Towers does- once, if not twice. The first time is when Morwen sends away her children, Freda and her brother Éothain, because raiders are coming. Morwen and Freda exchange several lines.

Later, Freda asks Eówyn where her mother is, and Eówyn shushes her with a ‘shh’. Whether you count that as a second time or not, it still passes at least once.

#lord of the rings #the two towers #lord of the rings the two towers #eowyn of rohan #lotr eowyn #bechdel test

[thethirdtreeofvalinor]

Éomer: Everybody, stay where you are. Chill the eff out. I’m going to ask you this one time. Why are you in this land?

Aragorn: I’ll do you one better, where are my hobbits?

Éothain: I’ll do you one better, do hobbits even exist?

Éomer, grabbing Gimli: Tell me what your purpose is, or I swear to the Gods, I’m going to stab this little freak.

Legolas, drawing his bow: Let’s do it, you kill my guy, I’ll kill yours. Let’s go!

Éothain: Do it, Éomer. I can take it.

Gamling: No, he can’t take it!

Gimli: He’s right, you can’t.

Éomer: Oh yeah, you don’t wanna tell me what you’re doing? That’s fine, I’ll kill all three of you spies and I’ll beat it out of Sauron myself. Starting with you.

Legolas: Wai- what? Sauron? All right, let me ask you this one time: What Master do you serve?

Éomer: What Master do I serve? Obviously, King Theoden.

Aragorn: …You’re from Rohan.

Éomer: I’m not from Rohan, I’m from Edoras.

Aragorn: Yeah, that’s in Rohan, dipshit. What are you hassling us for?

Legolas: So you’re not with Sauron?

Éomer: With Sauron? No! I’m trying to kill Sauron. He’s destroying my land. Wait, who are you?

Gimli: We’re the Fellowship, man.

#avengers infinity war #marvel #marvel quotes #lotr #tolkien #lotr memes #the lord of the rings #lotr fandom #incorrect tolkien quotes #incorrect lord of the rings quotes #eomer eadig #gamling #éothain #aragorn #legolas #gimli #the avengers #quotes: avengers infinity war

[infracti-angelus]

Pale Fire, Chpt 4

PALE FIRE, a Lord of the Rings fanfiction

Pairing:  Éomer and Lothíriel

Summary: Lothíriel wasn’t unacquainted with infatuation; after all, she was nearly twenty-one years old and (by Gondorian standards, at least) well past her prime. But while she was acquainted with infatuation and the whispers of attraction, this was entirely different. And it infuriated her. And when his line of sight but glanced over her, she felt heated from top of her hair to the base of her foot. No, not heated. Burning. Set aflame.  She felt as if she were the swine roasted on the spit for tonight’s dinner.

Rating: M

Click here for Chapter 1

Click here for Chapter 2

Click here for Chapter 3

Click here for Chapter 5

Chapter 4: The Party

A handful of large, blond men hollered out a hearty welcome to their new King as he and his newly appointed Marshal of the East-mark, Elfhelm, joined them. Though the evening was young and the new King of Gondor had yet to arrive to partake in merry-making, the Rohirrim had wasted no time in establishing themselves at one of the long wooden benches situated near the main table in the great hall. It did not take them long, however, to see the foul mood on their King, nor the weary look on the Marshal's.

The Riders of Rohan shuffled a bit and, with minimal jostled ale, cleared a space in the center of a bench for the two to sit. Éomer King sat down with his arms crossed against his chest and glared at one of the decorative flowers on the table. Léofa and Audra were arguing about which type of dagger was best kept in the boot. Ethelred passed the pitcher of ale to Elfhelm and Aldor while reprimanding Éothain and the twins, Gram and Fram, for shamelessly gawking at some of the Gondorian ladies. When the silence had gone on for several minutes, Ethelred quirked a brow at Elfhelm, who sighed.

"He had another letter from Erkenbrand," Elfhelm offered.

"Is all well?" queried Aldor. The rest of the men looked worried.

"Yea and nay," Elfhelm responded. He looked over at Éomer to see if he would take over the explanation; he rolled his eyes when Éomer did not stir. "First and foremost, Erkenbrand is aggrieved by the news of his sister-son's death. Dúnhere's passing was hard for his sister, who lost her husband at the Battle of the Hornburg."

The men hummed in agreement. A reverent silence fell over the group. They, too, felt the absence of their comrades: Grimbold, who was a valiant captain under the late Prince Théodred, had been crucial in the defense of the Fords of Isen and had taken over the command of the muster of the Westfold; Guthláf, whose grip had been so tight on his banner that it had to be pried from his hands even after death. These were just a few men who would never return to Rohan, who would never see wild horses frolicking in the pastures or hear the wind whipping through the seas of grass. These men would never feel the touch of their mother's embrace or smell the fragrant hair of their lover.

Elfhelm cleared his throat uncomfortably and continued. "Erkenbrand's counsel is greatly valued. Due to his experience, he was meant to guide the Lady Éowyn in guarding Rohan while we've been gone."

"Except she's here," Audra interrupted. Éomer shifted his weight.

"Aye, we did not know then the man we knew as Dernhelm was the White Lady. Thus Erkenbrand has been ruling in her stead by himself. He said that many of the Dunlendings have fled our lands after Sauron's fall. Erkenbrand is troubled that Saruman still lives, even if he is imprisoned in Isengard."

"But surely the old fool can do no harm locked up in the tower and under constant surveillance," Gram argued.

"You would do well to not underestimate him, Gram." Éomer said as he sat up sharply, finally spurred into action. "Gandalf believes so, as well." He heaved a sigh, slouching again. "Erkenbrand is worried of whispered rumors that the Dunlendings are amassing again, lured by the promises made by the wizard. Erkenbrand expects that they will either attempt to rescue Saruman or attack Rohan while we are rebuilding." With that declaration, the scowl on his face reappeared.

"Aye, I understand that the news received was not the most upliftin', but…" Audra said, slowly.

"Béma's balls, what ails ye?" quipped Éothain, jabbing his elbow into Éomer's side and receiving a deathly glare.

"Not. A. Word." Éomer hissed toward Elfhelm. He swiftly shoved the flowers away using his forearm and reached over Erkenbrand to grab the pitcher.

"Ahh," the corner of Elfhelm's mouth twitched, "Erkenbrand's letter may also have contained counsel on acquiring a queen."

Éomer visibly bristled and muttered something about "disobeying direct orders" and "treason." Éothain's guffaws were drowned out by Gram and Fram laughing and Léofa cracked a smile. The tension now abated, the men continued their teasing and conversations. Ethelred and Elfhelm whispered about the future of Isengard. Now on the subject of women, Gram and Fram argued over whether or not the bosom or the buttocks was more alluring in a partner, pointing out passing ladies who fit their fancy.

Gram made a low wolf-whistle and caught the attention of the other soldiers. "She's a real beaut," he said.

"A lady is not a horse, young man," Aldor said dryly.

"Aye, but that's his only comparison, seeing as he's only stuck his cock in one," Fram retorted, laughing while he earned a punch in the shoulder from his brother and a slap on the head from Aldor.

"Mind your manners, boy," he warned.

"Her coloring reminds me of a Dunlending," Audra commented, his eyes hard.

"If ye mean that her skin's darker than yours, then aye. But that's where the comparison ends," interjected Léofa.

"Look at those curves," Gram remarked, throwing a biscuit at Éomer who remained focused on his drink. "I'd love to feel her pressed up against me, moaning my name."

Aldor now slapped the back of Gram's head. "Remember where we are. She's clearly highborn, and your lecherous words can get us into trouble."

"She's definitely a lady," Ethelred agreed, breaking his conversation with Elfhelm, "though she seems not to adhere to the rest of the court's practices. Her style of garment and choice of color clearly indicate that."

Fram hummed in agreement, "As for the style, I certainly don't mind."

"What do you mean 'color?'" asked Gram, oblivious of all fashions unless it was to comment on which dresses were easiest to unlace.

"Take a look around," responded Léofa. His singular lifted eyebrow implied his lack of confidence in Gram's observational skills. "All the other ladies are in lively colors."

The men looked around at the people in the hall. All of the servants were clad in various shades of blue to represent Gondor. Most of the female partygoers wore in softer colors of spring, like periwinkle or chartreuse, light lavenders, sunny yellows, or pale purples. Some of the nobles who could afford the cost of the rarer dyes wore vivid vermilion, flashing fuchsias, and other attention seeking shades.

Éomer, who had been tuning everything out, twitched violently as Éothain threw an elbow into his side. "What was that for?"

"What do you think of her?"

"Who?"

"The lass that Gram pointed out."

"Don't care."

"Béma, Éomer. You used to jump at a chance to look at a pretty skirt."

"That was before."

"Before what?" Éothain asked exasperatedly.

"Before, when I wouldn't be immediately expected to give her a crown and entrust my people to her."

Éothain snorted. "A quick glance won't tie ye down to the lass, and I think she's worth the look."

"How so?" Éomer sighed, looking in the direction that Éothain pointed in. All he saw were a few tall men in Dol Amroth apparel next to a woman in a rosy pink dress holding a child.

"Ach, they're blocking her from view!" Éothain grumbled.

Éomer rolled his eyes and stood suddenly, startling Éothain. Éothain looked up and saw the Lady Éowyn approaching, her pale gold hair elaborately pinned to her head according to Gondorian custom. Slender and tall she was, as ever, in her white robe and a circlet of gold and silver with green jewels upon her brow. Her strength was no longer stern as steel and unyielding, but she was still undeniably a daughter of kings. Once fair and cold like a morning of pale spring, she had transformed into a sunny afternoon of mid-season, fully blossomed and yielding of its bounty. Her grey eyes nearly glowed with peace and joy, and the transformation was apparent to any and all who had known her prior.

Éomer offered his seat to her and she smiled gratefully. She swept her skirts into one hand to allow for the ability to climb over the bench, before situating herself between Elfhelm and Éothain. The men cheered at her presence, and drinks were once more passed around.

Éomer felt a presence behind him to his right before a firm but warm hand fell on his shoulder. Éomer instinctively reached for his sword on his hip before realizing it wasn't there.

"Peace, Éomer King," The Prince of Dol Amroth, Imrahil, smiled kindly at him. His long dark hair, greying at the temples, was intricately braided to twist around a silver coronet featuring a swan at the center. His tunic was dove grey, with blue and silver thread stitched into the velvet fabric in the shapes of swans over the sea. A mantle of steel blue clasped on his shoulders matched the thread in his tunic and flowed to the ground. Whirls and flourishes in shimmery silver thread edged the mantle. Though shorter than Éomer, the prince's posture was straight as a sword and gave him the air of regality that was his birthright. The corner of his eyes crinkled with his warm smile.

"Forgive me, Prince Imrahil," Éomer apologized, reaching his empty hand to clasp the forearm of the prince's in a warrior's greeting.

"There is nothing to forgive," he replied. "I know that peace can make one feel anxious."

Éomer grunted in agreement, letting his arm fall back to his side, his hand flexing awkwardly at the lack of his sword. He shifted his weight uneasily as he stood there. "I have no memory of peace."

"Then it is time to make memories," Imrahil responded. "My wife, too, knew the apprehension I felt when the Corsairs of Umbar were too quiet, or the thoughts that haunted me after battle. The best way to forget is to embrace the ones you love. At least, that is what my wife always said, before she passed."

Éomer was silent for a moment as he pondered what Imrahil said, looking fondly at the table accommodating his sister and brothers-in-arms. "If only it were that easy," he sighed, taking a few steps away from the table so that they could speak more privately. "I cannot forget the ones who are lost to me, nor the responsibility they have left to me."

"Nay, to do so would be dishonorable. But," he paused, "the responsibility need not be so great."

Éomer frowned. "Imrahil, you and I share a bond forged in war and bloodshed. You are a brother-in-arms to me, and I greatly respect your opinion. I also owe you a debt that can never be repaid, for saving my sister on the battlefield. But I implore you to speak plainly, for I perceive you have something you wish to say, and I do not have the willpower to discern it."

Imrahil looked at Éomer, weighing something in his mind before deciding to speak. "As you wish, Éomer. The responsibility you face is great, but can be easily lessened with someone by your side. The running of Dol Amroth was a great undertaking, and my burden was halved when I married my wife."

Éomer's jaw clenched, but Imrahil continued. "You say you respect my opinion, and I urge you to heed it. Do not allow your grief to prevent you from considering this, for that it what it is: grief. You are grieving not only those you have lost, but the future and freedom you may have once had, as well as the difficult course in front of you."

Éomer's nostrils flared and his eyes flashed, "And who would you choose for me?"

A few people looked up from their table, alarmed at the tone and volume from his statement. A particularly worried glance from Éowyn caused him to lower his voice and whisper furiously: "Would you have me wed a widow from my own country, to further acknowledge the cost of war and declare my commitment to my people?" He scoffed. "Nay, I'm sure you would have me forge an alliance with Gondor. Shall I take my pick of one of the ladies here? One whose station, until recently, has been superior to my own? A station that has been only one of comfort and frippery? Perhaps now they will deign to lower themselves to wed a warrior-turned-king, because the lure of a crown will cause them to forget they consider my country to be one of barbarians? Shall I choose a woman who has no knowledge of what this war has cost my people, nor of what it will take to rebuild?" He breathed heavily as his rant finished, looking at Imrahil who stood stoic and silent next to him. Éomer felt better now that the feelings he had been ruminating over had been released into the world, but felt more ashamed as the silence stretched on longer than comfortable. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Imrahil spoke before he could. Éomer had to strain to hear what he said, for his voice was so quiet.

"I know the responsibility you bear, but I know little of the weight it must cause to have it placed there so suddenly. I had hoped you would listen to my counsel, for I give it from my own experience."

"Imrahil, I-"

"Nay, please hear me out. I did not intend to offend you, for I would wish for nothing to break the bond we have forged. I, too, respect you, Éomer King, and wish for you to succeed."

"Forgive me. I know you had no ill intent, nor were you aware of the pressure I have been given in this matter from others."

Imrahil smiled, graciously. "If you would allow it, I'd like to clarify one thing." "Please," Éomer nodded, hopeful to push past this incident.

"Not all the women of Gondor are as you describe, though I may be biased," Imrahil said, smiling affectionately. At Éomer's look of confusion, he continued, "My own daughter is among those here."

"My lord, I never meant to imply-"

"No, no!" Imrahil laughed, waving him off. "I know you were only aware of my three sons. But my daughter is also a force to be reckoned with, and she would not take kindly to being described as one who is unaware of the cost of war, or one obsessed with frippery. She was charged with the care of Dol Amroth and its kingdom while her kin were away at war. Of course, that is not to say that she has been living a life of comfort while we were gone. In her charge, she has fought the Corsairs and contended with the Haradrim and, if what some of the servants say to be true, battled a few units of Men of Khand. She stretched out the food stores and risked her safety to provide for the entire village. She also didn't reveal to me some of the things she has forfeited to provide for others , resulting in her less than ideal wardrobe selection for the next few weeks. All of which, while I'm proud, I still need to seriously reprimand her for. But my point is that there are women in Gondor capable of being your equal and up to the task of being a queen of Rohan."

Imrahil paused, and then pointed across the room. "That's my Lothíriel over there."

A young woman stood next to a lord offering his hand to her. She was tall, like the rest of her family, towering over most of the other women and standing equally to some of the men. Her dark hair was not pinned up like the rest of the women in the court, but rather fell down her back in soft curls, similar to the style worn in Rohan. The color of her gown reminded Éomer of being on a compaign, camping under the night sky full of glittering stars. The deep, midnight blue was interrupted by small stones catching the light in constellations. Her shoulders were bare, revealing her tanned naked flesh; and, while the neckline wasn't dangerously low, the pull of the gown across her bosom revealed enough cleavage that Éomer could see it from across the room. In fact, the gown fit her so snugly it revealed curves that made it seem indecent. For a split second, her lashes lifted and her eyes met his.

Éomer felt lightning in his blood, his loins tightening at the image. He let out a string of curses at the reaction, which was fortunately misconstrued as concern by her father because at the very moment the lord next to Lothíriel grabbed her wrist and wrenched her towards him.

Éomer was already half the distance from them before he realized he had even moved.

Additional Context:

Dunlendings (or Gwathuirim) - ferocious, tall and vicious men that lived in Dunland, close to Rohan. Also called the Wild Men of Dunland, these dark-haired reclusive folk had long been enemies of the Rohirrim, because they were jealous that the rich lands of the old Númenórean province of Calenardhon were granted by the Gondorians to the Rohirrim instead of them.

The Corsairs of Umbar - sea-raiders and pirates of the Haven of Umbar. The corsairs were recognizable by their red sails, adorned with a black star or eye. Umbar, who would welcome exiles from Gondor suspected for treason or conspiring against the King, attacked Gondorian ships and raided its coast at every opportunity, threatening the coastlands and all traffic on the sea and contested the possession of Harondor. For most of the Third Age, Umbar was reclaimed, rebuilt, and occupied by the Haradrim. It became a home for a new generation of 'Corsairs of Umbar', cruel slavers who often raided the coasts of Belfalas and Anfalas in Gondor. During the War of the Ring, Umbar could still send 50 "great ships" and a number of smaller vessels "beyond count" to raid the coastlands of Gondor, and draw off major forces from the defense of Minas Tirith.

The Haradrim (or Southrons) - a proud and warlike people of the Harad. Ancient enemies of Gondor, they allied with Sauron during the War of the Ring. They were tall and dark-skinned with black hair and dark eyes. Many warriors were seen in bright clothing, such as scarlet robes, and were decorated with golden ornaments, such as collars, earrings, corsets of overlapping brazen plates; they braided their hair with gold. Some tribes painted their bodies. Scarlet and red was also the color of their banners, tips of their spears, and body paint. Their shields were yellow and black with spikes. They tamed the massive Mûmakil (Oliphaunts) and used them in warfare, strapping towers to their backs to be used by archers and spearmen.

Khand was the name of a land which lay to the south-east of Mordor and to the east of Near Harad. Little is known about Khand or its people, other than that they were allied to Mordor, making a coordinated attack against Gondor as early as T.A.1944. It is unknown if Khand was ever conquered by the reunited kingdom or if they remained independent. It is also unknown if they ever warred with the folk of the West after Sauron's demise.

#Lothíriel #Lothiriel #Eomer #Éomer #Rohan #Dol Amroth #Gondor #King #Queen #Prince #Princess #King of Rohan #Prince of Dol Amroth #Imrahil #Princess of Dol Amroth #Queen of Rohan #Éowyn #The White Lady #Dernhelm #Éothain #Erkenbrand #Elfhelm #Lord of the Rings #lotr #blahbabe #fanfiction #fanfic #infractiangelus #Pale Fire #eothiriel

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

It's the sticky thing of Éomarc, keeping the tradition of their people when they roamed the land of Rhovanion—that a child might inherit of their father so long as they are of the blood. Which can put brothers at odds with each other, if the elder of the two is born outside of marriage and the younger within. Traditionally, the marriage-right is followed, even if that boy is the younger of the two. But should the out-of-wedlock child make a claim (and a rightful one) to his father’s estate, it can cause troubles.  

Most of them end up at the Witan to be decided by king, law-speaker, and others present. If a resolution can even be found.

Case-and-point, Éothain’s cousin’s brother is of another woman not married to Eothain’s uncle. That out-of-wedlock man, Fram, has been seeking a claim of his father’s estate for ten years, now. Anytime he shows up at a Witan Gríma usually rounds on Éothain to snap: I thought I told you to sort your family out. The legal verdict hasn’t changed in the last five years. I’m not relitigating it.

Éothain just bemoans his cousins and their stiff-necked ways and tries to get Éomer to play peacemaker, as their liege-lord, but that has yet to result in anything remotely satisfactory.

Don’t die without making a clear case for who is to inherit what, Éothain regularly intones to Éomer, usually after a few ales. Especially if you have boys both sides of the bedsheet.

I’ll keep that in mind. You know me, fathering children left, right, and centre.

Éothain will laugh at that point, they’ll cheers to the wildness of families, then commiserate over the stupidity of distant cousins.

Eomer getting the dirt on Eothain’s family problems is his favourite past time. Grima just wishes those problems didn’t involve him annually or bi-annually, depending. 

Grima: this Witan is going to be hosted in the far north of the Wold because of uh....the need for equity in accessing legal systems of our country. 

Eomer: since when do you care about that? 

Grima: since I found out Eothain’s cousin’s half-brother won’t venture that far north. 

Eomer: it does mean your family problems might crawl out of the woodwork. 

Grima: my father was smart and dealt with the inheritance of his by-blows appropriatly before he carked it. 

Eomer: .... wait there’s more of you? 

Grima: two sisters and a brother. My mother gives them the evil eye at market. My sister--Brynja, not the two off-side ones--has tried explaining that it’s not their fault our father slept with Angharad from two farms over. Our mother doesn’t seem to care. She’s very nice to Angharad. But Angharad isn’t the one who inerited a third of the back field by the shitty black-gall oak tree that I used to stash things I stole in. That went to the three by-blows. 

Eomer: 

Eomer: 

Eomer: none of that makes sense while, at the same time, presenting so much to unpack. 

Grima: Wold inter-personal politics will ready any man for a life at court. 

#what makes a kynge #the Grima family politics makes great winter fireside story telling #especially because Grima is so removed from it - youngest son and he didn't really get anything in terms of land from his father #he got two horses - which is pretty decent all things considered #but yeah - he really has no skin in the game so LOVES the family football match #he's rooting for the half-siblings because fuck his older brother #also he likes to shit disturb like that #his mother is like: really Grima? you're rooting for the usurpurs? #Grima: it's their legal right #you haven't got a foot to stand on you know that right? #writing #lotr #lord of the rings #grima wormtongue #eomer

[siljascribbles]

Some designs I made and forgot to post here! First is my trashy pirate man Casey and then another shady man called Éothain.

I did do a proper sketch of Eo as well, but I didn’t like the sketch that much to post it here. I’m sure I’ll get more comfortable drawing these dudes over time as I keep drawing them though :>

#casey #éothain