§ In a hole in the ground their lived a Oneshot§ My LOTR/The Hobbit oneshots.

°Èomer x reader {Don't Touch...}

My first attempt a a 4+1 fic.

1.

The first time he noticed was the Eve of your mother's wake.

As was tradition, members of the Royal family would attend the in the circumstance of a noble's death. You sit int the corner of the room, staring dazed at the covered body on the bed.

Èomer quietly makes his way over, though you don't raise your eyes you speak, the words suprising him.

"I didn't like her all that much."

He is jolted by your tone, the same as one might use when discussing an ill fitting horse shoe, or a dry season that creates such agitating dust in a mane.

You glance to him with an odd smile. "I suppose that is a dreadful thing to say, my prince. But really, she was always such a stickler for etequite and how a 'proper lady' should act that I think I'm owed it."

You take a gulp of your whiskey, the burning feeling not registering in your facial expression, a feat that causes a half smile to quirk at Èomer's mouth. "You are allowed honesty, I think, My lady."

You shake your head, "My mother's died, yet still she's pushing me. Lovely isn't it? I'll finally have to be the Lady of the court she allways wanted me to." You let out a small breath of laughter. "Wouldn't she be appalled if she saw me, tipsy and chatting with the prince as if i were a pig farmer haggling over a price..."

You sit up straight and stare at the bed again, so suddenly that Èomer startles. "Yet somehow I think I will miss her,she was all I had left." Another sip passes you lips -lips that Èomer really shouldn't be thinking about with such detale as he is- and you sigh. "They all leave."

Èomer fears for the faraway look in your eye, and seeks to comfort you. "I know I am not so great with words as prehaps my cousin, the crown prince is, but I do remeber the dispare I felt when I was told of my mother's death. And though our circumstances are not the same, and I would not dare assume to know your thoughts, I would have you know this,"

He places a hand comfortingly on your shoulder, but you jerk back with an almost terrified expression.

"Forgive me Lady Y/n, I meant not-"

You shake your head furiously. "No, no my prince. You offer me no insult." You give another halfhearted smile. "I just... I've never liked being touched."

His expression is doubtful, but he gives an nod of agreement regardless.

Before he can say aught else, a paige whispers that the king is looking for him and he departs. Hearing you mutter to yourself as he leaves.

"They always leave."

2.

The second came not for a while, indeed it was not until two years later.

On this day he watches as you are locked in a mock-fight with Èowyn, though with the ferocity of of the strikes it hardly has more fight than mock.

Still he can tell that you are lightening your blows, cautious of Èowyn's recent illnesse. Your opponent is disarmed, and you send her for a rest. Her fatigue must indeed have been great, Èomer realizes, for she departs without (much) hesitation.