The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings one shots and Imagines Book II

Faoladh - Part 3 - Éomer x Gandalf x Reader

She watched as the pale rider, on an equally pale horse, made their way, with all speed, towards the castle. Her grey eyes never moving from the approaching forms. Something inside of her was sure that she had seen the rider before, that somehow, she knew him. An unseen force pulling her; making her move through the shadows so that she could get as close as possible. So that she could get a better look at this new visitor. The Faoladh watching on, as the many hundreds, if not thousands of the Riders of Rohan made ready their weapons at their leader's orders. She even having to admit that it was quite a formidable sight; each man standing with his brother in arms, their spears poised to deal with whatever and whoever this new rider, might be and bring with him.

"I must speak with Éomer, son of Éomund........." A voice called out, as the white horse was pulled to a halt. Her eyes growing wide as she finally recognised the new man. It was the wizard, Gandalf.......Gandalf the Grey. He had come to her father's kingdom many times when she had been younger. The Faoladh recalling how she had always liked the old man; how she had enjoyed sitting and listening to him as he told her tales of Middle-earth, stories of her own people; her own family. How once they had been just skin changers like the Northman, the Beornings who lived near the river Anduin between Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains; but then her ancestor, Cathal, had been betrothed to an elven maid, by the name of Netyinde. The lady, accompanied by more of her kind, settled in Tailte na gealaí, making the royal line of the Faoladh, then many other families, immortals, just like the elves. But the last time that she had set eyes on the old wizard, he had looked far different to what he did now. His shabby grey robes and long straggly beard gone, to be replaced with the purest, whitest robes and hair that she had ever seen. The wolf watching, as he dismounted his horse and made his way over to the wall of men; their leader moving through, to greet the wizard, before the Riders, stood down and Gandalf and the other man, disappeared into the castle. The last of the Faoladh unable to stop herself from following.

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"We must ride with all speed........." Éomer said urgently, as he got to his feet. The news that the wizard had brought with him, making his head spin. Rohan, had been released from the spell of Saruman, as had his uncle. Grima, the spy of the treacherous white wizard, scurrying away like the insect that he was, now that his master no longer had a hold on the kingdom. But he had also learnt that his cousin, the heir to the throne, Théodred, was dead; and that his people were taking shelter at Helm's Deep and would be under attack from the evil beings that served Saruman and the Dark Lord. Éomer now cursing at himself for having ridden so far from his home. The Marshal only hoping that the fortified gorge would protect his family, the people, as it had done some many times before. Hoping that he and his men could arrive back in time to aid his uncle.

"Yes, there is no time to waste......But........." Gandalf agreed, as he got to his feet. His eyes scanning the looming shadows.

"There is one more here whom we need to ask to join us..........." The wizard continued. Éomer turning to look at him; confusion evident on his face.

"There is no other here. Just myself and my men........."

"Then you have not been taking notice, son of Éomund. She is here, this is her home. Her kingdom, and she is watching us now, if I am not very much mistaken........(Y/n), my dear. Won't you please come and join us........." The wizard called out. The new heir to the throne of Rohan unsheathing his sword, as a woman slowly appeared from the gloom.

Éomer stared in disbelief, at the woman, as she made her way over to Gandalf. The pair bowing respectfully to one another, before the wizard held out his hand for her to take. She was, to put not to fine a point on it, beautiful, yet oddly so. He could see the points to her ears, which suggested that at least part of her could be related to the elves; yet that was where the similarities ended. For this woman was no slight, pale maid that spent her days walking the gardens of her home or playing the harp. No. This woman was every inch a warrior. Her body firm, strong, sporting not only patterns of ink that had been marked into her skin; but also scars that spoke of battle and perhaps more......

"Éomer........" The wizard began, as he turned the woman to look at the Marshal. The son of Éomund, swallowing deeply at the lump that had formed in his throat, as her shimmering light grey eyes fixed upon him. It feeling to the Lord of the Mark, that she was peering into his very soul.

"I would like to introduce you to princ..........Queen (Y/n). Lady of Caisleán an mac tíre. Ruler of Tailte na gealaí; and Daughter of the moon" The Ishtari announced, as he brought the leather armour and fur cloak clad woman towards him. Éomer continuing to stare in disbelief, as she was brought further into the light. The Marshal now able to see that she was no mere beauty; that she was, in fact, exquisite. Éomer doing his best to process all this new information; process the fact that this woman had been there all along, and neither he, nor anyone else, had noticed her. His eyes widening as he came to a sudden realisation.

"You mean that she............?"

"Yes, Lord Éomer. This is the last of the Faoladh.........."