Hobbit and Lord of the Rings Imagines and One-shots (Requests Closed)

Hello, Love (Part 2) - Eomer

Requested by daisy_up 800 years ago give or take.

***

The Battle of Minas Tirith had been brutal. Blood stained the ground and bodies still littered the field. It was counted a victory against the forces of darkness but the cost was high. King Theoden was amongst the dead. Eowyn was injured and nearly lost. In short, the aftermath was chaotic. 

So perhaps it wasn't entirely surprising that it took many hours before they realized you were missing.

"Where is Y/N?" Aragorn asked the room in general. "I require her counsel."

Eomer's head jerked up from the report he was reading as fear settled like a weight in his belly. The thought he may have lost you was far more terrifying than the battle he'd just fought. "What do you mean, where is Y/N? Last I knew she traveled with you." 

Aragorn's eyes widened in surprise. "Not I. She..." He trailed off as realization came to him. He closed his eyes and sighed. "She remained with Eowyn."

Eomer hurried to his sister's side. He grasped her hand. "Eowyn." When she did not respond, his tone grew slightly louder and more frantic. "Eowyn."

Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a small smile which quickly faded into a frown. "What troubles you?"

"Y/N. When did you last see her?" 

"I'm not certain. Those big beasts. She went after one of them."

Eomer dropped his head as his heart sunk. How could you possibly have survived such a confrontation? 

"Find her," his sister breathed out and he glanced up to meet her eyes. "Find her, brother. Don't lose faith in her yet."

He nodded once and kissed Eowyn's forehead. Hurrying from the room, he began to rally men to aid him in his search.

They started with the injured. There were so many being tended to it would have been easy for you to be lost amongst their number. Though Eomer looked with hope at every dirty face, he did not find you. 

Next was the dead that had been gathered. This time Eomer held his breath every time a new body was turned, a new face revealed but you were not among their number either. 

That left only the field. He divided the few men that he'd been able to take from less important tasks into two groups. One he sent to scour the city, the other were to begin at the gates and work out. Perhaps they could find more survivors as they looked for you. That's how Eomer justified to himself taking their attentions from elsewhere, but for him, there was nothing more important than finding you.

***

You had never been one to sit idle when there was work to do. You hadn't even returned to the city when the battle ended. Your head hurt and you'd taken a blade in your thigh but you'd tended to yourself readily enough. The healers would have their hands full with those far worse off than you.

Instead, you had gathered other survivors and began to sort through the bodies that littered the ground around you. You aided those you could and finished off any of the enemy that still lived. While you carried your sword, you had discarded what armor you could almost immediately. It was hot, heavy and unnecessary for the task at hand.

The dead were sorted into two piles, friend and foe though they both burnt in the end. You collected armor and weapons and lined them up in lines like a graveyard, hoping they could be used to identify the dead. From the orcs you took anything useful which was pretty much limited to the occasional weapon.  Then the bodies would burn, though you kept them separate and said a blessing over your allies.

You and the men helping you all wore rags over noses and mouths in a poor effort to keep the smell out. And to keep from breathing in the smoke. While there were other things that needed to be seen to after the battle, this would keep disease from taking the survivors, particularly from the orcs. More than one battle had been won only to have the victors fall because the dead hadn't been tended to properly. 

"You there! Stop! What are you doing?" a voice yelled and you turned to see one of the men yelling at someone near the most recent funeral pyre. 

Smoke kept you from getting a good view of what the person near the fire was doing. You headed over hoping to intervene before anyone was injured, though you had been quite a distance away when you heard the yelling. That and the wound in your thigh meant you weren't getting there quickly.

"We kept the armor and weapons," you heard one of the men explaining as you got closer. You were trying to hurry, but the wound ached and started to bleed again. "You can search them and see if you recognize anything."

The intruder grasped the other man by the shoulders. "A woman. Have you burned a woman?"

You slowed your pace and shook your head as you recognized the voice. Eomer. 

"Out here? Why would a woman be out here?" the man asked.

You rolled your eyes. He'd literally been taking orders from you for hours.

You hooked a finger in the rag over your face and jerked it down. "So you can't find me and just assume, I'm dead? I'm not certain if I should be insulted or flattered that you care."

Eomer turned the moment you started talking. You watched as the tension flowed from his shoulders and the worry evaporated from his gaze. You wondered how long he'd thought you dead. "Hello, Love," you said with a smile.

His long strides carried him to you and his mouth claimed yours immediately. When he pulled back you blinked at the sudden separation. He grasped your arms. "You are coming with me to get that leg looked at. Then we are both having a bath. Tonight we will be married and then you are never leaving my side again."

You laid your hand along the side of his face. "Even unto the gates of Mordor itself, Love."