#themightypen

Hey friends!

I know it’s been almost a month since I’ve updated Too Wise and I wanted to apologize for the delay! Work has been crazy, my roommate is fostering two adorable (but loud) puppies, and then on top of that, I got a couple of reviews/messages that made me worry that I wasn’t getting a couple of plot points/characterizations across. 

So I’ve poured a ton of work into this new chapter (which will be up tomorrow!) and hopefully it will pay off, both for me and for y’all!

Also, there’s about 20 prompts lurking in my inbox that I cannot WAIT to get to, but I wanted to finish this newest chapter first. I’ll be tackling some of those once Chapter 23 is up. 

Hope everyone is having a great week!

She waits, keeping her gentle rocking motion until she’s certain the babe is truly asleep. “I think I’ve succeeded,” she whispers, eyes still glued to Blodwyn’s serene face, “would you like to hold her?”

“And ruin the picture you make?” Comes a voice that is decidedly not Wilfled’s or Eothain’s. “Not for the wide world.”

Forcing herself not to jump, lest she wake the babe, she looks up. Eomer is leaning against the wall nearest the front door, arms crossed. The look on his face makes her pulse race. It is not unlike how he’d looked at her in the stables, or in Morwen Queen’s garden, but it is...tempered, somehow, with something sweeter than desire.

“I think you are just frightened to wake her,” Lothiriel murmurs.

Eomer chuckles, lowly, pushing off the wall. “You know me too well, þyrnihtu cwén.”

Chapters for Already Published Stories:

Too Wise to Peaceably Woo, Chapter 22 (or 23, if you’re on FF.net): pretty sure most of y’all are familiar with this one, but I’ll give you a little snippet just to be fair!

“I am well-versed in my brother’s tendency to revert to a childlike state when he is ill, and I do not want to force any serving girl to deal with that.”

“A wise woman and a kind one,” the housekeeper chuckles. “Although I feel I would be remiss in not telling you that it is not just your brother who becomes a man-child when sick.”

“Eothred?” Lothiriel guesses.

“Of course. And Gamling as well. Even a certain king is known to behave less like a man grown and more like a petulant child when afflicted with a head cold.”

Lothiriel cannot help but laugh at that particular thought: Eomer, curled in his bed, frowning mightily at a bowl of soup. “I can only imagine.”

“I can imagine you’ll one day see it for yourself,” Merthwyn retorts, grin widening when Lothiriel blushes.

with urgency, but not with haste, chapter 5: aka my poor neglected MCU WIP in which Steve Rogers has a habit of meeting beautiful dark-haired women with mysterious backgrounds in coffeeshops

She chuckles as she sets their coffees down on their usual table. “There are worse things than being interested in the woman you’re on a date with, Steve. I’ve seen plenty of bad blind dates and awkward elbows in my time. It’s refreshing, seeing a couple get along so well.”

“Did you take her to dinner?” Andrew interrupts, his eagerness taking years off of his face. “Escort her home? You young folk don’t do that enough now, but I expect you’ve got more sense than most--”

Steve never met his father, and the memory of his mother’s face fades more every day, no matter how much he tries to hold on to it, but fending off Maria and Andrew’s well-meant meddling feels...familial.

Stuff To Be Published:

None Left to Protest, aka the Sequel to Too Wise to Peaceably Woo: which I can’t tell anymore detail about without spoiling the current story. Just know there’s going to be one!

Something Good: aka the Eomer/Lothiriel Sound of Music-based AU nobody asked for but by God I’m going to write it anyways. 

“What’s your name?” She asks, keeping her voice soft. Lothiriel knows a shy child when she sees one, and the way the boy fidgets and keeps his gaze from staying on hers too long all but screams shyness.

“Eodric,” he says, quietly, and then, with a stutter, like he’s only just remembered, “m-my lady.” 

The King’s bastard, she realizes. No wonder he had been looking for some peace in the garden, away from the curious and often cruel eyes of the court.

“Hm,” Lothiriel says, “let us agree that here, in the gardens, you need not call me lady. Most ladies do not get dirt on their gowns or keep leaves in their hair.”

The small but bright smile he shoots her is a lovely thing, made even lovelier when he ambles closer and asks her to sing another song.  

Being the Sun: aka the Theodred Lives!AU in which there will be Pain and Angst but also Fluff and a Mostly-Happy Ending

Orcs come. And come. There are too many, he knows this, Grimbold knows this, and yet they cannot surrender.

At least I will die a noble death, he thinks, when the second arrow pierces his leg, at least I will die a worthy son of the House of Eorl--

Darkness descends.

Then...

A voice, familiar and beloved--”I do not care what it takes, save him, spare him, for I cannot, the Mark cannot--”

He wakes, at last, and finds his cousins looking down at him.

Hey guys!

So I know I’m waaaay behind on updating Too Wise to Peaceably Woo, and I answered an ask earlier this week where I said I planned on having the new chapter up by Sunday or so. 

Unfortunately, I came down with strep throat, so I’ve been super tired and not able to crank out words the way I usually do. So the newest chapter will be delayed a little bit longer. But I promise--seeing as how I’ve gotten multiple asks and not a few comments on the story itself--I’m not abandoning this story! It’s my pride and joy and I’m far too excited to share it with y’all to keep it to myself.

That being said, I might fill a few prompts that I still have lingering in my inbox; they’re much easier to do while sick than a whole chapter. So I hope that helps tie y’all over until I feel better!

“Say ‘thank you’, Lothiriel,” she says.

“Thank you,” she parrots, a little bemused. “What exactly am I thanking you for?”

“For allowing my dirty cheat of a brother to beat me during our race,” Eowyn says, ignoring the pointed look Eomer gives her, “the prize was getting to sit beside you at dinner.”

Lothiriel is absurdly--and entirely--pleased at the thought, but chooses to tap her chin, giving Eomer a thorough once-over. His hair is wind-ruffled, color high in his cheeks, dark eyes alight with happiness and no small measure of amusement. In short, far, far too handsome for her peace of mind. “Hm. If he cheated, should he earn such a reward?”

Eowyn laughs even as Eomer frowns at her. “I did not cheat. It is not my fault that Firefoot simply has a longer gait than Windfola.”

“Uneven stakes from the start!” Lothiriel cries, pressing a hand to her mouth. “How shall we deal with such treachery, Eowyn?”

“I will leave that up to you,” Eowyn says. She turns back towards the doors, clearly intent on leaving them alone. “Better be quick about it, though. Erchirion will be suspicious if you are both late to dinner.”

“I believe I owe you a debt, my lady,” he says, willing himself to sound calmer than he feels.

“A debt amongst royalty is no small thing,” she answers, the tremble in her voice taking the seriousness out of her words. “How shall you repay it?”

“In the Mark, a debt is paid back three-fold,” Eomer says. “And as the debtor sees fit.”

“Arwen, we cannot force them into anything,” Aragorn says, clearly reading her expression.

She frowns. “I do not force, I...lead.”

“You lead very forcefully sometimes, a'maelamin.”

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