#king eomer

[jorahh]

Took me some bloody time to achieve this work but here we fuckin are: Eomer riding Firefoot on battlefield.

[artwork by me, no AI]

[junebugonjupiter]

The Sick | Éomer Eadig

Word count: 3.2 k

Pairing: Éomer Eadig x wife!reader

Description: Éomer arrives home from battle days early due to a mysterious illness.

Content Warnings/tag: takes place after the War of the Ring, fluffy, hurt/comfort(ish), Sick!Eomer, established relationship

Author's note: I am working on writing a longer multipart fic that I started years ago, so these oneshots are acting as my much needed brain breaks

“Has Lord Erkenbrand sent word whether he will be supping with us when he arrives?” you asked your ladies maid, Matilde, as you wove your way through the wooden homes in the lower parts of Edoras. She was a quiet woman, only a few years younger than you, but she was as loyal and responsible as they come. 

“Yes, your Grace. The messenger arrived this morning. Lord Erkenbrand says he plans to arrive around midday the day after tomorrow and would be honored to accept your invitation to take a seat at the King’s table. He also sent well wishes for both you and the King,” Matilde recited what she remembered. 

You nodded in thought, “Good, I am glad he is able to come. Although there is still much to do,” you thought aloud. In the coming week, many lords were planning to arrive in Edoras to meet and take counsel with each other over various subjects. “Has the menu been prepared?” 

“Cook is sending it for your approval today. It should be waiting for us when we return,” Mathilde answered. 

Behind you, flanked three guards, handpicked by the king himself to protect you and do your bidding while he was away. A Kingsguard was a high honor, but to be picked for Rohan’s Queensguard was the highest. It conveyed that King Éomer trusted these men not only with his life, but yours. The men he picked were gentle and kind, but in the few times you had seen them fight, also deadly.

Today, you had tasked them all to carry coins and foodstuffs for the sick citizens of Rohan’s capital city. You liked to keep busy while Éomer was away, one of the ways you preferred was attending to the people of Edoras and earning your spot as their Queen. Most items had already been distributed and you were on the last few stops before heading home.

“Your Majesty,” an elderly woman gasped, making you and your small procession slow to a stop. You looked to see who had called you and the woman bowed low. The child who grasped her hand did the same, although with considerably less grace. 

“Rise,” you prompted, “Aethid, is it not?” You were quite sure you had met this woman before at the market selling her wares. 

The woman and, who you assumed to be, her grandchild rose to their full heights, allowing you to see the small sacks of grain they each carried. “Yes, your grace. I am honored that one as busy as yourself would remember the likes of old me. The people say you are kind, and they are right to do so. This is my son’s daughter, Éowyn, named for our king’s brave sister, as you could guess.”

The blonde little girl peered up at you with soft brown eyes that looked liquid. She smiled nervously before dropping into a hasty curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she said in an adorable voice. 

You could not help the smile that made its way onto your own face. “You are beautiful, as is my sister, Éowyn. I say, you will be just as mighty and kind as she one day,” you told her. 

A bright pink blush rose to her cheeks as she stepped closer to her grandmother. “You are pretty too,” she said quietly. 

Your chest warmed at her genuine heart. “Thank you, dear Éowyn. That means much that you would tell me that you think so,” you said. 

Éowyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Does King Éomer not tell you?” she asked

You let out a laugh, “Yes, he does, be he has to as he is stuck with me. But you did not have to say so, therefore it is special that you would tell me.” 

Éowyn beamed up at you and her grandmother proudly smoothed the child’s hair down.

At that moment, a great shout sounded from the lower gates, which were just barely in sight between the houses. Everyone’s heads flew to look just as the guards opened the gates and three horses thundered through. 

The riders were merely humanoid blobs from this far away, but you could recognize the gray coat and differentiated armor of Firefoot, Éomer’s horse, from anywhere. Atop his back was a slumped-over man with the build of a bear and who looked to be just barely staying in his saddle. 

“Éomer,” you gasped, your hand flying to your chest and feeling the rapid beating of your heart. 

The three riders flew past the guards, barely slowing from a gallop. Éomer’s peacetime Eored should have been heading back from the North where there had been whispers of rouge orc packs near Fangorn. The small army of 200 Rohirrim had gone to kill any stragglers and Éomer had insisted on seeing to it himself. Fresh on his mind was his promise to Aragorn that he would hold Rohan’s borders against any ill mannered creature and would handle any evil still in the lands. 

Eomer had set out as their leader, yet he returned now with only two at his side. Had things gone south? You desperately needed to know what had occurred and the state of the other men. Surely they had not died in battle with so few orcs, not after they had survived Helm’s Deep, Pellennor, and the Black Gate. Something must have gone terribly wrong.

“Make way for the King!” A voice you recognized to be Gamling’s roared over the town. At the panicked sound of his voice and the confirmation that it was Éomer slumped over, you picked up your skirts and took off at a sprint, forgetting all about those you were leaving behind. 

Your slippers were quickly covered in grass and dirt, but you cared little for the silk at your feet. People gaped at their queen as you flew by them, but you did not stop. When Meduseld’s doors finally came into view, you had broken into a sweat in the late Spring warmth. Your hair tangled and streamed behind you as you took the steps two at a time. 

You reached the veranda and pushed through the doors, finding a small group of Éomer’s council whispering worriedly to themselves. They stilled when you stormed in, hair wild and your hem covered six inches in mud. You looked for Gamling or Eomer, but found neither. They would have beat you here by several minutes.

“Where is he?” you asked shortly. One of your Queensguard skidded to a stop in the doorway, having evidently followed you, but you paid him no mind. 

An elderly man stepped forward and began to speak. “My lady, he is not feeling well, perhaps you should-” 

“Enough. Where is he?” you snapped, a fire burning in your gaze that made the councilmember to step back. 

“My Queen, he is here,” a voice to the side of the room called. To your relief, you turned to see Gamling waving you down the hall. 

You hurried to him. “What has happened?” you asked, “Is the king well?” 

Gamling pursed his lips grimly. “He is quite sick, he began feeling ill three days past, but only consented to parting with the men this morning.” 

You paled. In all the years you had known him, Éomer had never been sick. His allergies had acted up, he occasionally woke with aching joints and sore past battle wounds in the coldest days of winter, but he did not get sick. 

“But the other men are okay?” you asked to clarify.

“Yes, my lady. We defeated the orcs we found for there were few. We were heading back to Edoras when he became sick. He thought he could carry on, but he only got worse. We decided to ride ahead so he could see a physician,” he explained.

“Good, that was wise,” you said. 

You and Gamling made it down the hall and he paused before your chamber door. “The physician has been called, but the king is quite ill. I feel I must prepare you.”

“If he was well enough to ride back on his horse, he will be well enough to suffer me. Let me see him.” You pushed past him to open the door. Éomer was not in the bed as you expected, but instead standing next to the fireplace with a hand braced against the mantle as if that was all that was holding him up. Alwain, a young boy who served as Gamling’s squire, was helping him pull on a sleeping tunic. Éomer had already changed out of his armor and traveling attire, and was now in his bedclothes. 

“My love,” Éomer croaked, looking over at you, relief filling his gaze. His face was pale and had a sheen of perspiration over it. His hair looked dark with sweat as well, and the smaller, blond wisps stuck to his skin. 

“Éomer,” you breathed out, hurrying to his side. “They made it out to be that you were on your deathbed. You must not be so unwell, if you are standing and moving about,” you pointed out, a glimmer of hope finding its way back into your heart. 

“Even so, I feel as though I were at death’s door. Help me to bed, Alwain,” he instructed. 

Éomer put his arm over the teenager’s shoulders and Alwain aided him in hobbling to bed. You rushed to throw the covers back so that Éomer could get under them unhindered. He sneezed then, racking his whole body with the movement before Alwain helped him lay down on the mattress.

It hurt you like a violent stabbing to your heart that your strong and independent husband was being helped from place to place as if he were an old man. Alwain backed away as Éomer laid out on the bed, groaning and griping as he moved. He must be in a terrible way. It was rare for Éomer to complain about nearly anything.

“Oh my dear,” you fussed, pulling the covers up to his chin. “Gamling, have some soup prepared and extra blankets brought,” you ordered. You departed from Éomer’s side for just a moment to grab a chair, yet he reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist as if you were leaving him entirely. 

“Yes, My Lady. Come, Alwain, go on and see to the horses,” Gamling instructed, waving the boy through and shutting the door when both had made their exit. 

You sat gingerly on the wooden seat, leaning forward to be close to your husband. “What ails you? Is there anything I can do?” you murmured, gripping Éomer’s hand tightly in both of yours. 

“My head feels as if it has been filled with cotton and my body aches. Could you feel my forehead? Is it hot?” he requested, moving his head closer to you. 

You swept his hair off of his skin and laid the back of your hand on his head. He was warm, but not concerningly hot. You felt his cheek with your palm instead, furrowing your eyebrows. 

“Is it that bad?” he asked pitifully, closing his eyes at the pleasant feel of your cool touch. 

“No, it is not bad at all,” you hummed, leaning down to place your cheek against his. “You feel fairly normal, Éomer. Maybe a touch warm,” you offered, pressing a kiss to his cheek and straightening. 

“Careful, I cannot have you getting sick as well,” he said, squeezing your hand. “I truly have no fever?”

“None that I can tell. Hopefully the physician will have better judgement than I,” you appeased him and he nodded. “Roll onto your side so I can deal with this hair,” you instructed. 

He obediently and silently rolled onto his side and picked his head up a little for you to gather his blond locks to the back of his head. He coughed, a dry and painful sound. 

You began gently fingercombing the windswept snarls out. “Why did you not ride back the moment you felt the least bit ill?” you asked. “Gamling said you waited three days.” 

He scoffed weakly, “I could not leave my men. I have not gotten this sick since I was a boy. I have never left them for something so trivial before,” he said, his voice was a touch deeper than normal.

“And yet you had to leave them in the end anyways,” you pointed out, disappointed, but not surprised by the stubbornness of the nephew of Theoden.

“Éothain and Gamling nearly threw me on the horse and forced me home before I could have anything to do with it. It was hours before dawn when we set off,” he explained.

You grinned at his childish attitude. Éomer was noble, strong, and proud, but it seemed he turned into a big baby when he was not feeling well. 

“I am glad they did. Now I can be the one to care for you,” you said, starting a braid at the top of his head that gathered more hair as it went down until not a single piece was left out of it. 

“That has been a bright spot in all of this,” he agreed. 

“Why did Gamling not find a cart or carriage for you? You looked to have trouble staying upright when you came through the gates.”

He scoffed again. “Can you imagine? The king of the Horse lords riding in a carriage?” he said the last word as if it was a curse. “No, I would rather Firefoot bring me back tied to the saddle.”

“Your pride will be the death of you,” you chastised, although you felt an approaching grin at the thought of him riding in a frilly coach. 

He became silent as you worked, his breathing evening out into deep inhales and exhales. You paused and peered over his shoulder to check on him. To your satisfaction, he had fallen asleep. He needed the rest.

You tied off the braid with a piece of string and pulled the blanket over his shoulder where it had fallen down. You leaned back on your chair, watching his breaths nervously for minutes that grew long. 

A light knock sounded at the door, and when you told them to come in, Mathilde walked through the door with a bowl in her hand and a blanket folded over her other arm. 

“Your Majesty, the healer is here,” she informed you. You smiled slightly in relief. “Good, please come in,” you invited them. An older woman came in after Mathilde with a heavy leather bag at her side. 

You hurried to vacate your seat to get out of the way.

“Your Grace,” the older woman, who you recognized to be called Audrey, nodded to acknowledge you and you nodded back, opening your arm to invite her to look at him.

“You are most welcome here. Thank you for coming so quickly,” you told her. 

“Of course, your majesty. I came as soon as I heard,” she said. She waltzed in and quickly took your spot on the wooden chair. Mathilde set the bowl on the small table next to the fire and began spreading the blanket out at the end of the bed. 

Éomer still slept soundly, not disturbed at all by the newcomers. Although it had worried you at the beginning of your marriage, you had grown used to the way he slept like the dead. It took great effort to wake him before he was ready, yet he always woke up early on his own to get a start on his day. 

You watched while wringing your hands as Audrey pulled out her tools and began the examination. She felt his forehead, hummed in thought, and then put her fingers to his neck to check for the speed of his heartbeat. 

She hesitated and turned back to you. “I hate to wake him when he is resting, but might I do so to ask him a few questions?” she asked.

You nodded. “Do whatever needs to be done.”

“Thank you. Your majesty?” Audrey called, placing a hand on Éomer’s shoulder and shaking him slightly. 

He did not stir, instead he breathed in so deep it nearly sounded like a snore. “Your majesty?” Audrey tried again.

You sighed fondly, walking over to the other side of the bed and kneeling on the mattress. “Éomer, dear. Wake up,” you said evenly, placing a hand on his cheek. You gently tapped him a couple times. “Get up,” you said again louder. 

With a sharp inhale, Éomer blinked awake and looked blearily up at you. 

You smiled at the innocent and confused look on his face.“The healer is here and she needs to take a look at you,” you explained, nodding to the older woman over his shoulder. 

“Ah, my apologies,” he groaned, rolling onto his back. “I do not remember falling asleep.”

“No need to apologize, your Grace. I am sure you are wanting your rest, but I have a few things to ask you.”

Audrey asked Éomer about the state of his throat, his lungs, requested that he stick his tongue out, squeeze her hand, and even had him hum a little tune. She eventually nodded and began packing up. 

“I believe I know what you have, your Majesty,” she said definitively. 

You leaned forward where you had sat on the bed next to him. “What is it? Can it be cured?” you asked desperately.

“Oh quite easily,” she assured you. “King Éomer, you have a cold, probably brought on by the changing of the seasons. Drink plenty of liquids and get your rest. You will begin to feel better in a week or two,” she explained. 

You and Éomer glanced at each other in surprise. “Are you quite sure?” Éomer asked, “I feel much worse than one would expect for just an ordinary cold.”

“I am quite sure,” Audrey assured him. “Fetch me if you fare any worse, but you will be just fine.”

“Thank you,” you told her, standing up and gesturing for Mathilde to show her out and give her coin for the trouble.

They exited the room and you spun back around to a stunned Éomer. “A cold,” he murmured. “I would have guessed I had a plague of some kind.”

“You are a giant child, King Éomer! All this moaning and griping over a cold,” you laughed, sitting back down beside him and kicking off your boots. 

“I fear I have rather embarrassed myself in that aspect,” he groaned, covering his eyes with his hand as you laid beside him and tucked yourself under the covers. 

“Rather thoroughly,” you agreed. 

“Perhaps we could tell others that it is a Sweating Sickness, or some other sort of horror, and that my body is riddled with fever so as to not let anyone else in,” he suggested, only the smirk on his lips giving away his humor. His face was still pale and his eyes looked weary. 

“Tell me plainly,” you teased. “Did you do all this just for a few days of peace? I am sure there have to be simpler ways.”

He laughed, wincing when the movement of air hurt his throat and lungs. “I am sure there are, and had I thought of them, could have enjoyed any of those other excuses far better,” he said. 

“You do look in a bad way,” you admitted. “Very well, I suppose I shall still tend to you, even if it is a simple cold.” You kissed his cheek and settled your head onto his shoulder. 

“You are a most devoted wife to take pity on me,” he hummed, leaning his head on yours.

“You finally noticed,” you joked with a smile. 

"I have always known."

LOTR Taglist: @th3realslimb1tch

All:  @zzma-rs, @lejardinfleur, @kazgiena, @belanekra, @theselkieprincess, @23victoria, @wittiestrain184, @justpuretrash

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

The Fourth Age: Meriadoc Brandybuck

A.K.A. Merry, Meriadoc the Magnificent, Master of Buckland, Master Holdwine of The Mark

Lived in The Shire until he was 102 years old

Went to live in Edoras with King Eomer until his passing

After the passing of King Eomer, Merry went to Minas Tirith

Lived in Gondor until the end of his days, and was laid to rest alongside King Elessar

[butcherdom]

To be honest where was Eomers coronation scene at the end of Return of the King?! We deserved to see the Third Marshal of the Riddermark take his throne!!! Karl deserves this scene! He is my king forever and always!! 🤴🏼👑😍❤️

[ladyideal]

Ficmas~ Day 16

Pairing: Eomer x Gender Neutral!reader

Word Count: 1022

Warnings: None.

Summary: You meet Eomer at a café, specifically yours.

Requested By: @keijibum

A/n: god I'm so glad I'm now halfway done. It's already like halfway into November now too. Lmao.

"Welcome to Mom and I! What can I get started for you today?" You called when the bell rang as a customer strode in.

It was December, and that meant a ton of new seasonal drinks that many customers would come in for. Mostly all too sugary, and bad for the teeth, but hey the more the merrier. Peering up at the customer, you looked crestfallen but kept a smile on.

He wasn't one of your usual customers, but no matter. 

"I'm new around town, what do you recommend for two?" The man spoke, ignoring your warm welcome. He fidgeted, glancing at his phone every few moments.

"Well sir, if you want something more seasonal, I would say the peppermint white mocha," You stayed professional anyways. He was a damn good looker. Judging by the faces of the rest of the other employees, they too thought the same. 

"I'll try it. Make that a medium on both."

"Okay," You finished ringing him up, grabbing a sharpie out. "And what is the name on the order?"

"Eomer."

An unusual name, but certainly not the most unusual ones you've met before. 

"Great, I'll call your name when they're done. Have a seat."

"Thank you."

Smoothing the stickers out on both cups, you set them to the side, watching out of the periphery as you watched him set his jacket on the back of the chair and sat down. Before you could continue ogling at the man, another customer came in and it was back to work. 

"Two medium peppermint white mocha for Eomer!"

He smiled a thank you, and you relished in the brief dimples as a reward. Dipping his head once, he sat back down once more. It was safe to say that how you were able to keep your cool around him, you would never know. Returning to work, you finally realized that he was expecting company. 

The crisp suit and tie, and the black jacket hanging on the back of the chair was enough clues. The stranger was all doled up, and dressed to impress. You smiled to yourself, shaking the can of whipped cream.

Yet the company never arrived.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

One hour and he was constantly on the phone.

An hour and a half ticked up. There he was with his laptop, typing away at his work. Feeling bad for him, you gathered up the courage to speak to him. 

"Hi," You greeted once orders dwindled down and night had descended, approaching his table. "Do you want me to warm up that coffee for you, sir? It must have cooled off by now.

"No need, thank you," Eomer shook his head, pausing the work on his laptop. "I was expecting someone, but they never showed up. So how about you have it for the rest of the night? It seemed awfully busy tonight."

"Thursday nights aren't too steady," You spoke, taking a sip at the offered mocha. "I'm sorry your date didn't arrive, maybe they got lost here. It's a small coffee shop, nothing like Starbucks or the big companies."

"Their loss," He shrugged, stowing his laptop away. 

"Here, why don't you take the rest of these chocolate cookies? They're all baked today, and would be less sweet than that drink you're having. It'll balance the sweetness out a bit," You handed in a small brown bag filled with warm cookies.

"Your shop is wonderful, and I'm glad I stopped by. I should get going, but it was nice knowing you. Have a great rest of your night," He shook the bag gently. "And thankfully you for these."

"Y/N," You supplied, smiling at him. "You too, Eomer."

For a moment, he faltered but turned away and made for the exit swiftly. Silently berating yourself for not giving out your number, you sighed and cleaned the tabletop without another sound. Perhaps it would've been too forward of you to do so, but it was better than the bitter regret just like the extra coffee. 

Yet it seemed as if fate had other plans.

Eomer would stop by regularly on Thursdays, order the peppermint white mocha, make an odd face on the first sip, before disappearing into traffic with a polite nod at you. For the other six days in the week, you tossed and turned of the cute stranger and the idea of why he ordered something so sweet when he clearly disliked it.

"Eomer," You grinned when the bell clang.

"Y/N," He greeted, stepping up to the register. "Just my usual please."

"Humor me for a moment.. I'm curious, why do you like it so much?" You asked, continuing when he was about to answer. "And yes I know that you make those faces each time you drink from the cup. There are others you could order from the menu, and that type of mocha will be ending soon anyways."

"It reminds me of you."

Smooth. You had to give him that. 

"I uh," You stammered, at loss for words. With a nudge from a nearby barista, you put in his order anyways. "Thank you."

"Look, I know I'm only in town only for the next few days before I fly back home, but I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner some time soon," He continued, counting the bills and adding a five into the tip jar. "It's the least I can do to pay you back for those cookies."

"Eomer, please. It was a gift. It's the holidays, and some people need extra cheer around here," You shook your head, despite your heart rate skyrocketing at the prospect of a dinner date with the handsome one. "I was hoping that after being stood up, you would feel a little better with them."

"That's not a no," He smirked, helping himself onto the bar stools in front of a side counter.

"I get off at seven. One of my employees is closing night. Anything you're interested in trying around town?," You asked, washing the blender. "I know there's a new malaysian restaurant down the street that I haven't tried yet."

"Of course, I would love to." He smiled, sporting those wicked dimples once more. "My turn, why the cafe?"

Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @bluesclues-1234 @mournthewicked @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @also-fangirlinsweden @groovyfluxie @keijibum @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations @supergeekfangirl @lykxzandlove​ @your-sparklywinnercollection​

Tolkien: @im-a-muggleborn @fxngsfogxarty

Urban: @fandomsfeelsandfamily @justa-traaash @yueci @writerdee1701

[emily-strange]

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

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Original Female Character(s), Éomer Éadig/Reader Characters: Éomer Éadig, Faramir (Son of Denethor II), Aragorn, Éowyn (Tolkien), Arwen Undómiel, Arwen, Aragorn I Summary:

Newly crowned King Eomer needs a bride...but how can he look for a Queen when he doesn't know what it means to be a King in the first place? Maybe what he needs isn't what he's being told to look for.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Light That Endures, by  The Moonlily [@themoonlily] (432k)

Of old days of the Mark the tale of Lion of Rohan and his Lady fierce and brave is remembered and beloved by Eorlingas beyond any other... This is a story of being lost and found, and discovering your redemption. Here is a Light that Endures. 

Behold the result of an hour of photoshop editing. This is what happens when I’m left unsupervised, I get sucked into the éothiriel vortex and make shitty fanart for want of writing my own fanfictions for this pairing.

I’m currently in the process of reading this fanfiction - I’m only 1/5 into the story but it already holds the promise of long sleepless nights spent reading it until the wee hours. What do you mean I can’t make a fic rec if I haven’t finished said fic? Nonsense.

Listen, I don’t need to read any more of it to assure you that it’s a jewel, alright? A diamond, the huge kind everybody wants to see on their ring finger at some point in their life. Although you better believe I will read it until the very last word, all 432 264 of ‘em. Because, like my gal pal Jane Austen once said “When a book is well written, I always find it too short.” And if you think I’m going to bully all of my friends into reading it too, you are absolutely right, and while we’re at it you should give it a go too.

UPDATE: I have finished it. My life is a pile of fuming ashes on the desolated ground, I have nothing left to live for, and am forever bound to wander aimlessly on this doomed earth without a purpose. What am I supposed to do after reading this? Can life live up to what I just experienced through these words? Is it even worth finishing college or should I sit on a window sill and simply melancholy stare out the window until my body ceases to function and turns to dust?

Am I being dramatic? Certainly, that’s just who I am as a person. But the fact remains that my world has been turned upside down. Granted my sleeping schedule has significantly improved since I finished this fanfiction, but what is a bit of sleep if my waking hours aren’t filled with quality Eothiriel stories? Gotta say it: the bar has been set rather high, and I’ve been struggling to find a work that rouses similar enthusiasm in me as this one. Life has been generally a bit more dull now that I cannot look forward to reading a new chapter of ALTE anymore.

So, to all of you who stuck around until this point:

UPDATE (2): You know how I’ve been throwing my very own little pity party because this fanfiction was over and my life has basically become aimless? Well, I was in the wrong, because there IS MORE.

Flickers of Light (54k)

It’s a series of 48 oneshots, little snippets of Eomer and Lothiriel’s everyday life, a bit fluffier than what the author used us to in ALTE. I’m in the process of reading them all but I honestly don’t know what more to say if you’re not convinced that you should read this story at this point.

I wish I knew about this while I was reading ALTE because reading 54k worth of oneshots in one go sure is tedious when you have to try and replace each of them in the chapter of ALTE they belong to. So it’s best to read them as you go and switch between ALTE and Flickers of Light because of the chronology.

King and Lioness (266k)

Ghosts that we knew will flicker from view and we will live a long life. 

I’m thrilled about finding this one, seriously people, I once again have a goal in life. I’m so excited! ALTE is perfect one its own, so I was a bit scared before staring to read this one, because what if it ruined a perfetly good story, right? Well, I sure was wrong, because it’s fantastic. The mood is quite different from ALTE, that’s true, but it’s a natural evolution and not an abrupt change of tone. The characters follow their arc, and life goes on (a lot more time goes by in K&L than in ALTE even if this one is shorter) following its natural course. It’s quieter, cosier, it a story you can read without wanting to rip your hair out because of the STRESS and SUSPENS which nearly made me go bald during ALTE.

Then again I’m only halfway through so maybe the stressful/suspensful parts are yet to come.

UPDATE: I have finished it. Last night I pushed through the last handful of chapters because I stubbornly refused to go to bed before reaching the end. It took me forever the read the last chapters because I was too busy bawling my eyes out - and consequently having the clean my glasses and blow my nose regularly - because of how sad I was.

And it’s not even a sad ending, it’s a happy ending. But it made me sad, and I honestly don’t know how I even managed to ugly cry for over two hours without alarming my roommates or drowning in my own snot. (Classy, I know.)

I knew how it was going to end for Eomer and Lothiriel, I knew it from A Light That Endures, but I didn’t expect it to be so heartwrenching, and I especially did not expect it to be written all the way to the end. I thought the author was going to stop at the peak of happiness in the story. But no, she didn’t. And while you see the end coming, it doesn’t make it easier to read it, or accept that it’s how things are.

SPOILER WARNING ----

@themoonlily You made me cry so hard I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all after finishing it. From the moment Eomer freed Silfren tears starting blurring my vision and after that the flow didn’t stop until I reached the very end. It really broke my heart to read about Eomer’s death even though it was peaceful. Of course I personally love Eomer, but having to read about Lothiriel’s mourning and aching made the loss ten times worse. I was already there, a weeping mess, and then I thought about how much pain she must be in if it’s that bad for me, and it only made me cry harder.

I have loved your story and the characters in it from the very first chapter of ALTE to the last of K&L, and it cost me so much to read about their end. I love your writing to pieces, and I know I will read ALTE again at some point in my life, but I don’t think I can go through the emotional turmoil of K&L again, I genuinely don’t have the strength to do that to myself again. It was so cathartic, I was exhausted by the time I finished (at an ungodly hour of the night) like I’d run a marathon, I was drained of my energy as though I was the one who’d lived their lives, and done what Eomer and Lothiriel had done -instead of reading a book while snivelling and crying-  

I will cherish your story forever, thank you for writing it (and nearly killing me with Feels)

[daybreak96]

Ok, can we talk about that smoulder real quick