(EomerxOC, Helm's Deep, Love, Fluff, Gore, Blood, One Shot, Grief)
Helmâs Deep was full of the last remains of its people. They were all gathered in the aftermath of what was set to be the battle of their lifetimes, for it saved them all. Blood coated the grey stone walls. Black and red blood of both enemy and ally. It smelled as battlefields do; the foul stench of rotten corpses, excrement and hot iron blood.
Eomer frowned as he stepped through the Keep. It was thick with bodies. How far theyâd come into their last defense, how close Rohan was close to being an extinct race of Men.
His legs burned as he climbed the final ascent of stairs. He entered a grand hall. Only it was not lit with torches and the smells of roasting foods as he remembered it.
Women and children were out of the caves. They were frightened. The looks on their eyes as they searched for their survivors reflected a fraction of the terror in their warriors eyes. The things on this battlefield were harsher than most. Uruk-hai made war a vile, horror filled with atrocities too filthy to be recounted.
Eomer was Third Marshal of the Riddermark. His place was out in the field in search of survivors. It was where he was needed. He fully intended to join his Eored once his search was complete. There were two he needed to find first.
Selfish need drove him further into the room. It was duly noted that it was out of line for his position. Still, he walked farther inside the hall until he saw them. All he needed was a glance. One look, and his heart would be settled.
He caught sight of his sister. She had her hand pointed, where supplies were to be set as they tended to the wounded. Her eyes were rimmed red. The caves were a savior to the menâs mind, but it did not save their loved ones of the sounds of the deaths. It only amplified the fears of what might come find them in the cave whether it be freedom or death.
Eowyn found his gaze. Her body gave slight give, weakness to her knees, a kind breath out of her chest, as she gave a wobbly smile.
He, too, shared the same relieved breath.
There was a face he sought out in the crowd. Through the endless waves of faces, some familiar, some not, he yearned for a face that was known to his heart by instant fluttering.
The longer the absence, the harder his heart pumped.
Where was the face he longed for?
It took too long to walk through the survivor people until he located someone who was bound to know. An elderly woman with crooked fingers and a boy near thirteen in age. The boyâs clothing dragged on the floor behind as he walked.
Eomer placed a hand on his shoulder. âMaynard. Where is your sister? Her face is lost to me.â
The woman and boy exchanged looks. Their faces told of a restrained guilt. He was not let in on their silent exchange. Tensions in his gut quivered. The battle fear was not yet over for him. There was relief still to be awash his body in victory. Their hesitation did not ease him.
           âSpeak,â he barked.
Maynard gathered the billowy fabric up to move. âWe donât know.â
Eomer stood straight. His eyes squinted as he took in the boyâs slumped shoulders. The womanâs deepening frown.
           âIâm sorry, my lord.â The boy trembled.
He staggered a step, startled by his own thought heâd come to.
She wouldnât.
Now he saw it. The clothing was sizes too big for the young boy. A young boy who â if by recollection â should have been out on the battlefield alongside his countrymen.
The elderly woman held a stiff face as he turned to her in anger.
           âDo not ask to send our young ones,â her voice said, âwhen there were perfectly fit soldiers ready to fight.â
Eomer flew to the battlegrounds. He searched the dead before they made safe the castle. There were wounded to tend to, provisions to secure, men to regroup, efforts and rebuilding all to be concerned with yet his solider heart could not rest until he found her.
The frantic wavy grip of his throat struggled to keep breathing as he looked through bodies. Their helmets pulled from their heads. Blood, mud, disgust smeared around. A singular stench of death on the wind. It cloaked the stronghold with its inescapable melancholy.
He moved through the bodies on the wall â what was left of it. There were men with crushed ribcages. Their insides leaked out onto the stone.
His stomach flipped. Eyes turned to sadness at the innocent round eyes of children that gazed up from their limp corpse.
All he pictured was instead her: light colored eyes of sky blue with perfect golden hair, more flat than wavy. The coloring of her cheeks perfectly pink turned white, ghost-like in death. Broken bits of her body torn from her flesh like an animal consumed the life straight from her living tissue.
He fought every want to succumb to his emotion. They were bottled so tight, ready to release. He did not know if he would weep or scream. Perhaps, it was the brewing of both: his sorrow at losing the woman he loved so deeply and the anger at himself for not keeping her safe.
A foot solder approached behind his back. The clinking of the chainmail against the armor chest plate echoed in the silence of the dead.
The loud clank of a helmet dropped to the stone.
           âKeep that helmet on, solider,â he said through his gritted teeth. âThere is still reason to fend for your head.â
           âIs your head forfeit then, my Lord?â
It was a voice he convinced himself would never sound in his ears again. He turned around.
There she stood, much like a man, in her armor. An empty sheath hung from her belt. The chill of morning left her breaths clouds sourced from her chapped lips.
She panted heavily. The effort to remain standing dwindled as she swayed.
           âBrona,â escaped his lips in disbelief.
Eomer rushed to hold her in his arms. His hands trembled against her body. It was real. No figment of his imagination. It was her. Alive.
He pulled her against his chest. Her weight impacted him fully. She was exhausted.
           âYes, my Lord. I am here.â
           âWhy did you not come find me?â He murmured. It was a selfish yearning in his heart. To have known she was there would have had him fight harder. Harder to protect her. Harder, to keep them all alive.
She winced as slid his hand between the plates of her shoulder and pulled them down her arms. âYouâd have sent me back to the caves.â
Glimpses of her flesh below her tunic showed deep purple and black bruises. Red rashes at her neckline were from the metal chainmail too close to her neck below the armor. He pulled the last heavy pieces off her body showing what woman laid inside. She was not small, nor slender, but woman all the same. A woman who loved flowers and song and enjoyed riding in the yellow light of dawn.
He collected her body into his arms. It relaxed, limply hung by a thread of her energy.
The cots were assembled for the wounded. Eowyn tied a knot at the back of her head to keep it out of the way as she wound a linen wrapping around a bleeding arm. She directed the others tending to the injured around the room.
She rose, wiped the blood from her hands to the white apron tired around her waist, when her eyes caught at Eomer. Her face went pallid.
Not a breath exited her chest as she rushed across the room. A finger ran along her friendâs face. âIs she?â
           âNo.â He shook his head. âSheâs passed out from exhaustion. Dehydrated.â
           âBring her here.â
There was an open space on the floor. A wooden crate was covered with spare comforts that were available. A flat pillow and course blanket.
He frowned. He pulled the cloak from his uniform. It was a luxurious cloth. He slid the fabric over top her body.
His sister handed him a bladder of water. âDrip some into her mouth. Iâll massage her muscles. It will ease the pain.â
He tried to hold the bladder steady. His hands trembled too much. It flicked water over her cheeks down her neck.
Eowyn frowned. âIâll do this.â She took the water. âYou massage her.â
The room was thick with energy. The battle left many wounded, some beyond repair, and many young men dead on the fields that surrounded the grand hall. There were cries of loss, cries of reunion, cries of pain around them.
Neither sibling said a word as they worked on their friend.
Eomer gave a long glance at his sister. Her hands worked at the joints of Bronaâs shoulders, rolling them and stretching the muscles with her long fingers. She discovered a split in the skin of Bronaâs underarm like the slice of a sword come from behind.
A cold sweat formed at his spine.
War was no place for those with tender hearts. It was horror and gore. It was for the field of monsters and those who became monsters in their fight against monsters.
His innocence was lost on those death fields. The slain bodies full of blood and hate and anger and other worldly tissue filled his mind with no impact anymore. It was like a tapestry woven of a scene. He saw what was before him, but it did not illicit emotion. Just a barren stare.
There was no hope for him. But his love. The beautiful pieces of her soul were light and delicate and glee. They were the bits that he adored. She felt emotions that he could not bring his heart to feel.
What had she endured that night? What savage action had killed that spirit, he wondered. Would she even be the same?
           âDid you know?â He bumped his sisters arm with his shoulder. His fingers worked at massaging the left hand. It was the one that held the sword. The grip on a sword for extended periods of time cramped the hand woefully.
Eowyn swallowed but said nothing.
           âEowyn,â he said sternly.
           âI only suspected,â she replied with no give in emotion. There was fear for her friend, but no guilt in what had befallen her. âThere were too many around. I-I could not see what happened until it was too late.â
           âShe could have been killed.â
His sister put a palm against Bronaâs cheek. She leaned into the touch. âYou donât know what its like. That feeling. Left behind, to wait for everything you love to be stolen from you bit by bit.â His sister placed a gentle kiss atop her forehead. âThere is ache in surviving. Being the only one to not be killed in bloody battle. To carry on with the weight of the dead as a reminder of why they perished. It would have killed her, Eomer. Killed her. To have Maynard slain in battle while she lived. She would have not been the same woman we love. I could not ask that of her. Could you?â
Eomer sat there for a few long hours while his duty called at him to rejoin his uncle and regroup his men, he remained by Bronaâs side.
His sisterâs words echoed within his head.
The shrill heartbreak of cries that came from the caves when the boys were pulled from their mothers. Old men pulled from grandchildren. The women of his country asked to give more than they were willing to survive.
Heâd not allowed himself to consider what was done to Brona when they came for her brother.
The fact she changed her clothes with him, made herself a man, just to save his fate from being skewered by an Uruk-hai lance.
Tears were in his eyes when her eyes started to slide open. Her brow flexed in confusion as she looked around her. They stilled when she caught sight of him on side of her cot.
                   âEomer,â she breathed.
Her hands touched his cheek. A slip of water fell from his eye. Her thumbs wiped it away.
                   âAm I dead?â
He shook his head. âNo. You should be, but you are not.â His hand trembled as it cupped her cheek. It held her close. The coloring of her face returned. Peachy pink hue touched the tops of her cheek as she stared up at him with those loving eyes. The fear of losing her had near come to fruition. âForgive me, my love. Forgive me for what I asked of you. Our land was in need. Our people nearly extinct.â
She held the hand against her face. âForgive me for doing what I must.â
Eomer pulled her into his lap. Her body slowly wrapped around his. Lips pressed against his cheeks. They both forgave what awful betrayal they had done to one another without fulling realizing the devastation it could have caused.
The land was safe. Their loved ones survived the long battle.
The world was far from perfect. It had more trials to endure, but they did not doubt the strength of one another as they faced the terror that grew in the east. For a dark cloud hung over their life, but it did not shade their love.
For more stories on Eomer Eadig and Rohan, please check out my Eomer collection on fanfiction.net!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I wanted to share a portion of the first chapter of Blood and Ink with you all!! Zierra LeFay is my leading lady in this fanfiction with a two-world plotline. Middle Earth and a fantasy style Earth. Hope it draws you in!!!!
YTD 2019, October 31st
Location: Hillsboro Oregon, USA Bishop/LeFay/Boleyn Coven
"So, what do you think?" Zierra had been facing her over-the-door mirror and swiftly turned to look at Tutela, who had taken her most frequent form as a black cat. Her tail swayed as she meowed approvingly, rubbing herself against Zierra's leg. Her vibrant eyes smiled as she seemed to almost break out into a gentle grin.
"You're totally right. I look gorgeous." Running a finger through her dark curls, Zierra adjusted the waist armor that was snug against her maroon long sleeve tunic. Zierra's black pants were tucked beneath a pair of black leather boots that dawned a hidden pocket inside meant for a small weapon but she used it to hold her cell phone(she was a witch after all⌠Zierra was a weapon all on her own).
Moving toward her dresser, Zierra grabbed two silver wrist guards, placing them over the sleeves of her tunic before tying the leather strings. She then reached for her satchel, double checking to make sure all the essentials were still inside before readying herself to leave.
To Zierra, Halloween was much more than a chance to dress as her ancestor Morgana LeFay(though she thoroughly enjoyed that part). It was also her birthday and a day when witches, like herself, felt a sudden boost to their magic. For All Hallows Eve was one of the nights where the universe's magic was at its most potent.
Grinning, Zierra motioned for Tutela to follow. "Vamonos, let's get to the coffee shop."
With a nod, Tutela moved toward the open window while Zierra headed for the door of her one bedroom apartment. Grabbing her keys, Zierra watched as Tutela examined the area, making sure no one would see her transformation, before taking the sudden form of a blue jay, flying about and patiently waiting for Zierra to meet her outside. With Tutela outside, Zierra used to magic to close the window and made her way outside
Zierra's apartment was located near the Trimet( Tri-County Metropolitan Transportation District of Oregon) at Orenco Station, an urban neighborhood filled with decades old brick buildings as well as those with wide windows and a modern appeal.
It was within walking distance of her work as an RN at a senior living facility, and an even closer walk to her mother's coffee shop, LeFay Lounge. Orenco Station was by far her favorite neighborhood in the Portland area, and as Zierra stepped outside, she smirked taking it all in. It was a view sje wouçd admire for years to come.
Her eyes fell on Tutela before she began to walk toward LeFay Lounge. The lively street was filled with evening joggers, mom's taking their kids out trick or treating, as well as a young man playing his guitar for money. She threw in a few dollars as she passed while Tutela flew overhead, keeping her flight patterns headed in the same direction as Zierra, without looking as if she were following her.
Taking a right, she could see her mother inside the coffee house just ahead. She was nervously pacing the floor while typing some message in her phone. The sudden ping from inside the pocket of her boot made her realize Ellie, Zierra's mother, had been texting her.
Reaching for her cell, Zierra glanced toward the screen.
I thought you were gonna get here before everyone else?!
Zierra's mother had never been the controlling or worrisome type, always trusting her daughter to do the right thing. More than that, Ellie had an amazing truest gift(every witch can do most spells but every witch also has their own strength known as their truest gift) of foresight and was always one step ahead. She knew when danger was truly imminent and when to roll with the punches. Still, that didn't mean Ellie could foresee every outcome. The future was often unpredictable and depended on the decisions of others(if everything was black and white, Ellie would have been able to protect her husband from his untimely death). Nevertheless, it was because of that special gift that if Ellie was worried, Zierra ought to be as well.
"Ay dios mio." She said, quickening her pace. She gazed toward Tutela, pursing her lips. "We better get in there fast. I'll let you in from the back." Tutela made a loud chirp in reply just as Zierra took a deep breath, hoping it wasn't too serious before reaching the front door.
Inside the shop, lanterns adorned the walls along with quotes written in an Old English font. The floor was made of stone, and the arched ceiling was painted to look like the night's sky. In every way, the coffee house symbolized their great heritage of Medieval Times.
Ellie, who had been facing toward the large fireplace, quickly moved toward her daughter as she entered. "Zierra, we don't have a lot of time." Ellie's voice sounded panicked before she fixed her eyes on the large glass window that showcased her coffee house. She raised her hands as a gold mist began to emit from Ellie's fingers before floating toward the walls of the building, circling it entirely.
The Glamour Spell was used to keep those without magic from ever witnessing or hearing the practice of magic. From outside, LeFay Lounge would appear silent and still, without a soul occupying it, concealing their every action, no matter who arrived for the meeting or what magic they chose to use.
"Mom, what's going on?" Zierra asked worriedly. She hadn't seen her mother this distraught since the night their father died.
Turning to face her daughter, Ellie looked anxious. "Zierra, I've just had an awful vision. It was about you, and it's going to happen soon."
Zierra, seeing the sudden fear in her mother's eyes moved forward. Her mother reached for Zierra's hands before continuing. "In the vision you were standing before a hideous creature with flesh that looked burned. Its' fangs were long and it had stocky legs. It wanted to kill you. It wanted to eat your flesh." Ellie's breath seemed to hitch as a tear fell across her cheek. "You used your magic to defeat it but then as many as fifty came toward you, with some riding on the backs of unnaturally large dogs." Ellie shook her head as her eyes closed for a moment, carefully remembering every detail. "I- I thought at first they were werewolves but their structure wasn't quite the same. Not to mention wherever you were did not look familiar at all."
Zierra could hardly keep up. She pinched the bridge of her nose trying to comprehend her mother's words. "Mama, calmete." She placed her hands on her mother's shoulders. "What are you talking about? What creature? Werewolves? I thought they were extinct?"
Ellie drew in a breath, feeling frantic. "No, I'm saying I thought it was a werewolf." She waved her hand as if to move on. "That's not what's important Zierra, I'm trying to tell you something bad is going to happen, and whatever those things were, I have never seen in all my studies of magic."
Zierra bit her lip. This was supposed to be a typical meeting between three joined covens. Those that were direct descendents of Bridget Bishop, Anne Boleyn, and Morgana LeFay. She thought she'd get to celebrate her birthday as well as Analise Bishop's(they'd both been born on All Hallow's Eve and as such their magic was a great deal stronger than even those on the councill). She thought the two of them would finally be initiated into the councill, as it was typical on a witch's twenty fifth birthday. Instead, she began to fear for her own life.
"Have you told the council your vision? What did they say?" She asked, hoping the coven could help. Whatever her mother had seen, she strongly wished to prevent it.
Ellie gripped her daughter's hands, her eyes growing large at Zierra's question. "You can not even mention my vision! We have to figure this out on our own and be ready for anything that might happen tonight."
Zierra was growing more concerned by the second. "Why aren't you going to bring this up to the councill? I thought all visions of foresight had to be shared-"
"Not when I think a bloodwitch is the reason these creatures were created!" Ellie interrupted.
Zierra furrowed her brow. Analise had been the first bloodwitch in centuries. They were uncommonly rare and could use their own blood to spark life to inanimate objects or bring back dead things(though no matter what they brought back to life they were never entirely the same, their bodies needing constant repair). The two girls had never truly gotten along but Zierra wouldn't suspect Analise of wanting to harm her. Analise had always been full of herself but given that they saw each other a few times a year it just didn't make sense. Analise was a beautiful girl with her own damn life in Rio De Janeiro! She had money, power, and popularity and was miles away from Zierra.
"Mom I don't understand-" Before Zierra could continue, a blue flame suddenly formed within the large fireplace to her left before the stone began to expand. Then, stepping beyond what Zierra knew as Doorway Flame, a woman with red hair and pale skin gave them both a warm smile.
"Merry Hallows Eve, Zierra and Ellie." Lisa greeted. "And Happy Birthday, Zierra."
"Merry Hallows Eve." Zierra and Ellie replied in unison.
Lisa's smile began to fade, taking in Ellie's blotched face. She knew she must have been crying. "What's wrong Ellie?"
Ellie composed herself, giving Lisa a wide grin before waving her off. "Oh we were just reminiscing of when Byron was still alive." She lied.
Lisa's head tilted as she gave them both a look of sympathy. "I can imagine how hard it must be to not have him here for a day like Zierra's birthday." Lisa turned to Zierra just as the others began to arrive. "I heard about you finishing your degree. Congratulations on becoming an RN and for snagging such a prestigious job right out of the gate!"
"Thank you." Zierra answered with a smirk. "I did apply on a friday the thirteenth." She admitted, which was açeatd a day of luck for witches and wizards.
Soon each young descendent(future council women when they were of age and maturity) and council members began to arrive, totaling thirty women. There were ofcourse male descendents, but their magic was typically never as strong(an old curse caused by Mordred was responsible) and as such it was always women who led councils across the globe. They greeted each other kindly, taking seats at the many tables in Ellie's shop, with Ellie LeFay, Lisa Boleyn, and Octavia Bishop standing near the fireplace as the head council women.
"Zee!" Zierra spun around when she heard her cousin's voice, who immediately wrapped her arms around Zierra. "Happy birthday, gorgeous!"
Zierra released her cousin with a pleasant grin, momentarily pulled from her troubled thoughts. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Aliyah's costume.
"You look, muy bonita!" She exclaimed, remembering the dress as one of Regina's from their favorite TV show, Once Upon a Time (The pair loved the world's interpretation of magic and all the irony behind its hidden truth)."I think you could give Lana Parilla a run for her money!"
Aliyah slowly spun around to give Zierra a full view nodding as she spoke. "So true, cousin. So true. But it's not just the party that has me looking so spectacular." Aliyah's smile was wide and filled with excitement, she gripped Zierra's forearms biting her lip. "I'm going to ask Ezra to marry me!"
Zierra's mouth fell open. Ezra Leveau's- who was a half witch half Faery- ancestry came from Marie Laveau and his coven held a council with two other families in France. His mother's marriage to Veyro, an ambassador for the Fae kingdom, had also helped solidify a peace treaty between both parties.
Zierra had been so happy to see them together. And though it had only been six months since they started dating, anyone with eyes could see it was meant to be. "Does that mean you're asking him-"
"Tonight? Yes! And at the Festival? Also yes!"
Zierra practically screamed before giving Aliyah another hug. "Yey! I am so happy for you both! Seriously he is perfect for you! And at the festival no less! Which I get to see happen!"
The two girls sat at one of the round tables, still giddy from excitement just as Analise Bishop had taken the last chair. Zierra's smile immediately dropped as fear crossed over her eyes.
"How were your summers girls?" Analise asked quietly, looking down at her black polished fingernails. Her skin was painted green and her dark hair was fastened into a beautiful dutch braid. She glanced at Aliyah first, waiting for a reply.
"Paris was just as romantic as they say." Aliyah answered with a reminiscent grin. Despite how annoying Analise's ego could be, Aliyah had never been rude to her. It wasn't in her kind nature. But as she looked toward her cousin, Aliyah was quick to notice Zierra's sudden apprehension. Her body had stiffened and her eyes were momentarily filled with vigilance and though Zierra had been quick to recover, Aliyah was much too close to her cousin to miss it.
"I got hired at a senior care center. It's great money and I'll always have the same shift, unlike if I took a job at a hospital. It was a gig most wouldn't have fallen into having just finished school but I did apply in a day if luck, so I was bound ti get it, but I plan to stick around."
"Oh yeah, you finished your nursing degree." Analise stated. She glanced Zierra up and down as if she were beneath her. It was the same self righteous expression Analise often carried, but this time her eyes seemed sinister and it only caused Zierra's fear to grow; her mother's strange vision painting gruesome images inside her head as she contemplated whether Analise would ever want to hurt her. What would she gain from doing so? She asked herself, not able to come to a rational conclusion.
"Love the costume by the way, and happy birthday." Analise added, taking Zierra by surprise. Her smile seemed genuine and the darkness she had seen a moment before was gone "Don't I look ravishing in green?" She winked, gesturing to her costume as The Wicked Witch. Maybe I hadn't seen it at all, Zierra considered. But mom seemed really scared.
"Thanks, and happy birthday to you as well.' Zierra's eyes narrowed for a moment. She truly didn't know what to think. The two had never had any bad blood. So why now? Trying to hurt Zierra meant Analise risking her position on the council and giving up even the slightest opportunity at power felt out of character for Analise. Still, her mother's vision kept Zierra on guard. She gave Analise a slight grin before nodding, turning her attention to her mother who was about to speak..........
Summary:Â Running in a thunderstorm was clearly not Rowena OâNeilâs brightest idea. In fact, it cost her her life.Â
Or so she thought. She then appears out of nowhere in the fields of Rohan as the Three Hunters run to retrieve the Hobbits. She bears strange markings, like a leaf-less tree, imprinted on her left side and limbs from the lightning that sucked her from her world, running with the Hunters, right into Eomer.Â
Uses books, movies, and my twists.Â
Features Eomer/OC as main couple & canon couples.
AN: IâVE READ SOME STORIES LIKE THIS AND THOUGHT IâD GIVE IT A WHIRL! HOPE YOU ALL LIKE!Â
~HOBBIT OF ROHAN
Running in the rain has never been a struggle or something to hate for me.
To the contrary, I quite enjoyed it. It seemed to wash away my troubles, leaving them pounded thoroughly into the ground I left behind. That being saidâŚ
I had never been in a storm like this. Guess that's what I get for choosing to live in the mountains of Scotland near Loch Ness. I suppose they had a charm I couldn't resist and a peace well worth the occasional storm my choice of habitat cost me. But, again, this was worse than any I had run in before. Lightning flashed all around me, thunder drowning out whatever noise I made. I pressed on doggedly, however, refusing to let the elements beat me into submission.
Cursing, I slip just as I round a tight corner on the edge of a steep bank of the mysterious lake. I tumble harshly down the hill and just as I hit the water, I feel lightning strike my chest, right over my heart, and I know nothing but pain, then darkness takes me as I sink deeper into the water, a strange peace suddenly overcoming me as my eyes slide closed.
=#=#=#=#=
I slowly come to to find myself leaning against something that feels like stone. I would frown if I had the energy.
I had hit the...the water...just as lightning struck me. I hadn't been stopped by a stone. There were no stones in my path to hit, really. So...why was I leaning against stone now? Were there stones in heaven? Had I died? I move to swallow, though my mouth and throat are too dry for it to accomplish anything more than irritating my already sore throat. I hear a ringing in my ears akin to tinnitus as I moan a little.
"Aragorn, the stranger awakes." I hear someone call, his voice melodic and pleasant, rising above the ringing. Was he an angel of some sort? Here to guide me to whatever awaits the dead? I then hear shuffling and a hand upon my brow.
"Gimli, bring water. Our guest is starting to burn with dehydration." Another voice orders, this one a natural leader, a voice of authority, his deep, rich baritones calming.
"Aye." A gruff, but not altogether unpleasant voice replies, moving away to obey the command. I shift my eyes and they slit open. I suddenly am aware of warmth coming from a source directly in front of me and a light crackling noise. My eyes open more to reveal that I am sitting before a fire in the small hours before dawn. I blink. How long had I been out? I'd been running in the early morningâŚbut not this early.
I am then drawn to the man beside me I hadn't noticed before as he accepts something from the figure I take to be Gimli, presumably the requested water. His back was turned to me, so I could not be certain. "Pleasure to see you awake, lass. You gave us quite a shock." Gimli (I recognize his voice from earlier) politely informs me, tipping his head slightly, red hair plaited down his back and beard nearly hiding everything but his eyes. Aragorn, I think, moves the thing he took from Gimli closer to my mouth and I am somehow able to move and accept the water, gulping large mouthfuls down greedily. I suppose a lightning strike would do that to you.
"Careful." Aragorn cautions. I know he is Aragorn now that I have heard his voice. "You do not wish to drink too much and end up worse for it." I nod slowly, looking at Gimli again, and find that he could be a native of Scotland. The frizzy red hair, the full beard, the manner in which he speaks, I've heard and seen it all before.
"Th-thanks." I croak through my slightly parched throat. Aragorn sits back a little, smiling as he puts the water aside. I note it's in some kind of bag, but set that aside for now as the third member of this trio, the one that informed Aragorn that I was awake, comes forth.
"What are your symptoms, milady?" He asks, crouching at my other side. I frown. 'Milady'?
"Ringing in my ears, a migraine, and a parched throat." I report. Aragorn nods.
"All signs of dehydration. However, we are near a river. How did you come to be in this condition?" He asks. I struggle to sit up again and end up against the rock once more.
"Lightning strike." I tell them. Gimli scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but Aragorn glances at him, and Gimli stills.
"Milady, there has been no rain here in weeks. How could you have been struck by lightning?" I frown. There most certainly had been rain. Just last night, unless I had been unconscious far longer than I thought. And why do they insist on calling me 'milady'? Odd...
"I don't- -I was in a storm. I was running around Loch Ness, and- -"
"Loch Ness?" Aragorn asks. "Never have I heard of a place by that name, and I know these lands well."
"It's just overâŚ" I start before realizing that I had no clue where I was. This place feels unfamiliar. "Aren't we near a lake?" Aragorn shakes his head.
"There is no lake in Rohan, mi- -"
"Rowena." I interject. I wasn't used to being addressed by anything else. "My name is Rowena." Aragorn nods.
"Very well. There are no lakes in Rohan, Rowena." He repeats. I frown. Why does that sound familiar..?
"Rohan?" I ask Gimli comes forward.
"Aye, Rohan. Where else should we be?"
"Um...Scotland?" I reply, now feeling up to moving to sit up and accomplishing the goal at last. Aragorn steadies me with a hand on my back.
"There is no Scotland in Middle-Earth, Rowena." I pale. Wait⌠"Where exactly do you think you are?" Aragorn asks. Good question, I muse inwardly. I swallow.
"My...my home in...oh, manâŚ" Suddenly, everything clicks and I groan, realizing what this means; I had somehow been transported to Middle-Earth, a fictional land in a book series I hadn't heard or read in years. I'd never even finished reading it all the way through; I only got to Two Towers before my life became too busy and I was too bored to continue reading. "OkayâŚ" I breath. "I am sorry. My mind was...was hazy." I apologize, trying to sound more confident that I knew where I was now than I truly felt. "So, we are in Rohan?" Aragorn apparently can tell I lie, but does not press me.
"Yes. We are tracking Uruk-Hai across these lands to rescue our companions, a pair of Halflings." I searched my memory. Someone created Uruk-Hai, right? In a palace-tower thing? And Halflings...were Hobbits, if I remember right. I nod. "We came across you when we stopped for the night. On our approach, I swore nothing was here, but you were lying against the rock when we arrived to rest for a few hours." I nod again, processing all this information.
"So I've only been out for a few hours?" Aragorn nods.
"As far as we can tell, yes."
"Gave us quite a scare, you did. Thought you were dead, but here you are, and we are glad to hear it!" Gimli adds cheerily. I smile.
"Yeah, me, too." Aragorn frowns, moving to get a better look at me.
"I would say you are Gondorian, by your dark hair, but you have the eyes of a Rohir." I chuckle.
"Not an uncommon combination, where I am from." I reply before I can stop myself. The trio stiffens, but Aragorn and the still unknown man (he's startlingly beautiful and entrancing to look at) act as though suspicions were merely being confirmed.
"Are you not from here, lady Rowena?" The only member whose name I don't know asks. "There is something foreign in your presence and countenance, but perhaps you are simply a traveler." I suppose that's somewhat true. A traveler between worlds, apparently. I swallow.
"...No. I am from a...a very distant land, far, far away." Aragorn leans forward.
"Tell me. I know of many lands."
"...A land called Scotland, in what I believe may be an entirely different world." I reply after a moment. Aragorn frowns, a calculatingly piercing gaze fixed on me.
"And yet, you wear clothes that seem from this world." He notes. I look down, frowning. I realize that I have, indeed, gotten a change of clothes. Where should have been drenched running capris, a three-quarter sleeve shirt and running shoes, there was now a pair of cotton leggings, thick and warm against night's chill with a simple shirt under a thick, fur-lined coat, complete with knit arm warmers to keep my forearms warm whenever I remove the coat. I was also wearing a pair of knee-length leather boots that seemed already molded to my feet, fur peeking out. I blink.
"I was not wearing this a moment ago. I was running around a lake in a thunderstorm, when I stumbled and fell, lightning striking me as I hit the water." I explain, finding a satchel beside me. I had never seen it before and yet it seemed familiar to me. Aragorn frowns.
"Why were you running in a thunderstorm? Were you being pursued?" I shake my head.
"I am stubborn and didn't let the rain deter me from my daily run. I see now it was a very foolish idea, but the rain did not start til I was already a few miles away from home and I didn't want to cut the run short." I explain. The three men look at me strangely.
"Your...daily run?" Aragorn asks. I nod.
"My daily exercise. I run around six miles a day." Gimli guffaws, but Aragorn nods.
"If that is true or not, we will soon know. Our pursuit is delayed by your arrival, milady, and now we must press on. You are to come with us, I'm afraid. I would not risk harm to you in these lands and we are out of other options." I nod, grabbing my satchel, pulling the strap over my head and settling it in a position that would not (hopefully) hinder my running.
"Alright then." I tell them, motioning them on. "Right behind you."
=#=#=#=#=
I regret my decision! My legs are aching and my breath has long since abandoned me. My satchel has created a bruise against my thigh and I am about to pass out or give up, letting them run on without me.
"Keep breathing. That's the key." Gimli groans beside me, falling a little behind. "Just keep breathing." I nod, but can't speak as I press on doggedly. It felt as though I were on my first run. It was nearing 11:00 in the morning and not once had we stopped.
These three must be truly desperate to reclaim their friends if they press themselves past physical limits like this, which brings me to a slightly disturbing thoughts: How are we going to be able to fight off whatever awaits us if we are exhausted from running? I ignore the thought and continue on.
I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
(The look I think she would give Eomer heređ𼰠Zierra and Eomer love OR as I like to say, #Eomerra)
â To the front door.â She said aloud, phasing. Appearing before the door, Zierra hadnât expected to end up so close to someone, her eye of sight mere inches from a manâs chest. With a gasp, Zierra stumbled back and would have landed on her ass, but the strong hand of a warrior grasped her forearm and kept her steady.
âYou will find passing through these doors will not come easy, no matter who you are. Now, speak quickly. Why have you come?â
She looked up, her heart racing at the mere sight of him. Good gracious he was sexy, she admitted. His muscular shoulders. Those tousled locks and perfectly kissable lips. His smoldering gaze that was causing her to forget why she was there in the first place, making Zierra realize how much she missed him.
She placed her hands on his chest, her sultry eyes drinking him in. âEomer.â His name felt so wonderful to say aloud. âAdios mio, Iâve missed you something awful.â Zierra couldnât stop herself. Truthfully, she didnât even want to try. And before she knew it sheâd gripped his tunic, pulled him down hard, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his.
Despite his initial surprise, Eomer deepened the kiss. Something about it felt⌠Right.. His hands were on her back, pressing her body against his own, causing Zierra to release a soft moan. Their kiss grew fierce as something in his heart yearned for all of her. This was more than lust. This was passionate love⌠But how, Eomer questioned in his mind. He did not know herâŚ.She gently brushed her tongue against his lips, thinking he would willingly open his mouth but instead Eomer pushed himself away from her.
âWhat witchcraft is this?â He asked angrily, slightly out of breath. âYou fill my thoughts and senses with longing but I do not know your face.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
