#grimowyn

[exdeputysonso]

So fair. So cold. Like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter’s chill. - The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

[trivialqueen]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I’ve updated my shameful dark!ship LotR fanfic, the Queen’s Choice. 

Chapter 7: Dancing 

Chapter 8: Making Out

[thestraggletag]

Hi there! I've recently discovered the Eowyn/ Grima 'ship, and I wondered if I could trouble you for some fic recs? (I seem to remember you posting about this 'ship in the past) Please & thank you!!

Thanks for waiting for a few days for a reply! There’s actually a really easy and short answer to this: Go here and GO NUTS. @airy-minotaur​ literally IS Grimowyn. Full stop, everyone go home, that’s it. I actually got hooked to her fics years ago in FF.net and later I found her here, through some fucking magic and now we’re friends and OMG, IT’S LIKE BEING FRIENDS WITH AN ACTOR/WRITER/ARTIST YOU FANGIRL ABOUT, IT’S THE BEST. She’s also super funny and has this section in her tumblr dedicated to “reviewing” the worst romance novels ever that is totally worth checking out too.

Now, thankfully, Airy is pretty prolific. And there’s literally NOTHING she’s written that I don’t fucking ADORE, usually angrily while I shake my laptop. But if you want my personal, read this first recs, here they are:

A Crown Laid Heavy On My Head (PG) - The House of Eorl is dead - all slain, save one: Eowyn, the last vestige of the House of Eorl. Taken in and raised by rebels on the borderlands of Rohan, Eowyn returns to Edoras in disguise, meaning to recruit others to her cause and gain access to Usurper King Wormtongue when the time comes to cut his throat. Instead, she finds the King is much cleverer than she thinks - and her duty perhaps far more than she can bear alone.

The Dog of Dunland: WIP. Alternatively known as the Slave!Grima fic. In an AU Rohan, Saruman’s spies have convinced the aged and ill Theoden that making slaves of the Dunlendings is the best way to punish them for their recent attacks on Rohan’s borders. Thousands of slaves are brought from Dunland into Rohan - but only one is granted the great fortune to serve the Lady Eowyn: Grima son of Galmod. Under her favor, Grima becomes known as Eowyn’s little pet - the Dog of Dunland. But Grima is far more than a pampered slave, and Eowyn more dangerous than her enemies may realize. 

Queen of Thieves: The Tale of Maid Hood [R] - Lady Eowyn fled her life as the Usurper King Theodred’s cousin and wife to Theodred’s right hand, Lord Counsellor Wormtongue, in protest against her cousin’s crowning when Theoden King yet lived. Six long years later, and Eowyn has become a hero known only as Maid Hood, a rebel and a fighter stealing money from the king’s men and giving it to the poor. But the Wormtongue knows her hiding place, and her camp may not be safe for long.

The Right of Choice [R] - AU. Grima is a healer in Dunland. He finds a freezing Eowyn, lost and wounded, just outside his home, and takes her in to care for her.

Sound and Fury [R] - A fight in Grima’s teenage years leaves his hearing permanently damaged; but clever Grima hides his disability well, reading lips so fluidly that no one guesses his secret. No one, that is, except Lady Eowyn…

The Wiles of a Woman (Part 1 [PG] - Part 2 [PG] - Part 3 [NC-17]) - Eowyn has never been much for romance or attraction; but when Grima appears in Edoras for the first time, her heretofore latent romantic interests spring painfully to life. But while Grima seems to want her, he certainly doesn’t trust her; and nothing will convince him that her motives in this are pure.

Dark Stallion (NC-17) - Grima is the Usurper King of Rohan, and husband to reluctant Eowyn. When he returns after court one day infuriated and looking for an escape, things take a turn for the surprisingly tender.

All Hail the Queen(NC-17) - Eowyn’s relations are all dead, and Eowyn is made queen at a young age. Many disapprove of her choice of counsellor - the half-blooded bastard Grima son of Galmod - but given that he is not only her counsellor but also her consort, there is little they can say against him that will sway the queen herself…

Year’s End (Part 1 [R] - Part 2 [PG]) - Eowyn gets a little tipsy and ends up saying and doing things she may not otherwise have done.

See no Evil: WIP.  Prompt was Blind!Eowyn and Tutor!Grima. Blinded in the fire that took her family’s lives and left her sole heir to the throne of Rohan, Eowyn ascends the throne and finds herself embroiled in a bitter battle for the seat beside her throne. The title of Lord Counsellor is very much desired, but none crave it more than Grima called Wormtongue.

Enjoy!

[trivialqueen]

The Queen’s Choice, A Grimowyn AU: 1. Holding Hands

Disclaimer: One Disclaimer to rule them all – I own not but the mistakes. No offence nor infringement intended.

Summary: Éowyn is the last heir of the House of Eorl, but in order to take her throne she must become a woman by custom, she must marry. Éowyn likes few of her courtiers and trusts even less of them. She does trust one thing; however, she trusts that Gríma son of Gálmód loves her. It’s not a lot but it is enough, especially if she is ever going to have a chance to leave her mark on the pages of history. Grimowyn AU.

Notes: Inspired in part by auri_mynonys who showed me how wonderful this ship can be. Also inspired by the fact that apparently if one wants more Grimowyn stories one has to write them. Loosely based around a series of prompts on DeviantArt a few years ago, the 30-Day OTP Challenge. Please feel free to comment and critique! I will be the first to admit that it has been some time since I read Lord of the Rings/ saw the movies. I know characterization will likely be off, I just hope it’s not too painful. Also, I apologize up front for the characterization of Théodred, please forgive the AU.

Théodred died as he had lived - in a woman’s bed. He died without legitimate issue, a fact Éowyn almost mourned more than her cousin’s death. Three years ago, King Théoden died, wasted away by a disease that ate him from the inside out. Three years before that Éowyn’s elder brother, Éomer, had fallen, along with the rest of his fellow riders, in a vicious warg attack as they patrolled the Misty Mountains. Seven years before that she lost both her parents – one to battle, the other to grief. At nigh twenty Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, niece of Théoden, was utterly without family. Her chest ached with the emptiness of orphanhood, loneliness drew the tears to her eyes and flavored them with salt and bitterness. What made her body shake and throat burn with blood and acidic bile, however, was not being utterly alone in the world. It was the larger issue, as large as Rohan itself. She was the last member of her family. She was the last legitimate member of the House of Eorl. She was now Queen.

Théodred had been retrieved from one bed and place in another, cleaned, groomed, and dressed in the softest white tunic and breeches, silver and gold thread forming intricate knots and patterns at the neck, wrist, and hem. On the morrow he would be interred but for now he was laid in a side chamber for visitation. He is peaceful in his eternal sleep Éowyn thought, trying to stem the tide of tears, though her thoughts did not stray far from the morbid. For whatever reason that fact amused her. Her amusement amused her further until she giggled. The first was soft but a second came swiftly, a throaty arpeggio in contrast to her more wrenching sobs. The twitters dissolved into silent tremors – emotions too confused to sound. Éowyn – Queen – standing over the last of her kin giggling with tear stained cheeks and an emptiness that made her sway.

“My Lady?” His sonorous voice was full of concern, yet its worried tone lost none of its richness. Éowyn turned at the words and, damnit - shieldmaidens did not swoon - she felt the world shift under her unprepared feet. He, and his rich voice were to her in a moment, a gentle hand on her arm to steady her, to ground her. “Forgive me, my Lady, I did not intend to startle you so.”

Éowyn did not have to raise her eyes far to meet the piercing, crystal blue gaze of Gríma, son of Gálmód, Lord Counsellor. His deep-set eyes were focused on her intently, like he could read her very soul. Not that it was difficult at the moment, her soul was shattered, raw and bleeding along the broken edges. A tear rolled off her cheek and landed on her collarbone, breaking the spell the Counsellor’s eyes cast. Gently he removed his hand to retrieve his handkerchief. He pressed the cloth into her hand, it felt clean although it was rumpled and covered in faded ink stains. She dropped her gaze to the cloth, were his hand lingered on hers.

“I am needed?” Her voice was brittle. She made no move to dry her eyes, nor he to draw back his hand.

“No. I came to see if you needed...something.” He meant to say someonebut clearly thought “something” to be a more appropriate choice. What Éowyn needed was her family alive and with her again. What she needed was not to be sole heir to the throne. What she needed was not to be alone. She knew that Gríma knew this though he would not say it. She knew it like she knew that in spite the pain and trials of the world the sun would rise again. People feared Gríma, hated him as well. Théodred himself couldn’t stand the man but couldn’t be buggered to do the business of statecraft and so could not remove him from the small council. Had Éomer lived Éowyn knew he would have hated Gríma more than Théodred. Éowyn knew all the reasons to hate Gríma, son of Gálmód, from his mixed blood to his suspected mixed loyalties, his sorcery to his spiteful, often cruel temper. He was not to be trusted, Éowyn was well aware and yet also very willing to overlook it. His flaws were lessoned – not expunged – but blunted in her mind by one grace. One saving grace. Gríma sawher. He saw her, Éowyn, not daughter of the noble Éomund or the White Lady of Rohan, not Princess, not Queen but Éowyn. And what he saw he did not seek to change but rather sought to understand and what he could not he took in stride.

“I need my family.” She said, finally raised her hand and his handkerchief to dry her eyes, and more importantly buy her time to phrase her request.

“Would that I could, my Lady, I would reunite them at your side.” He offered, hand twitching slightly. Few people touched her, even fewer she suspected touched the man known at court as “Wormtongue”. Did he miss contact as much as she, she wondered suddenly.

“You are a truly loyal man, but I am aware you have limits.” Her face was dry, but she loathed to give up the now damp cloth in her hand. “I am not ready to leave.” Her eyes turned back to her cousin, the King while still above ground, silent but regal still. To leave would mean to enter a new reality, one she felt utterly unprepared for. “I am not ready to leave but cannot bare to be alone.” She returned her gaze to his and could see her own pain reflected in his eyes. If anyone knew what ‘alone’ was, it was this bastard son of Rohan. “Would you sit a while with an orphan?” She meant the question to lighten the mood. It did not. Gingerly she reached for his hand. A closer study of his face – his eyes, the set of his muscles where eyebrows should grow – told her he was still deciding how best to comfort her, feeling how much of her tone was safe sarcasm designed to shield other feelings. She laced her sword calloused fingers through his writing calloused ones and led him to the seat she had occupied and its long cold companion.

She sat, hand in his, forcing him to sit as well. Gently she squeezed his pale fingers.

“Perhaps soon I will be ready to face-” she paused, unsure of how to correctly articulate what had her so very – Valar she couldn’t even pick an emotion – trepidatious about the world and her new place in it.

Gríma squeezed her hand in return. He understood.

[gilraina]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Author: auri_mynonys (@starscreams-tiara​)

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

Rating: General

Relationship: Éowyn/Gríma Wormtongue

Length: 00:08:29

Summary: Grima Wormtongue knows exactly what he wants, until her.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Just a few color-corrections to make this scene less green-yellow tinted. 

idk I think Grima looks more romantic and less like a lizard in warm hues.