"For Lorie": The Hobbit and the Storyteller (original) (raw)

A group of LJ friends gathered together in summer 2007 to create a book of stories and art for our dear friend, lorie945, who is fighting ovarian cancer. That book was published and bound in a special edition for her and presented to her at the end of July 2007 in Chicago. The book was then published via lulu.com and sold for several months, all proceeds above cost going to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund.

Now that six months have elapsed, the authors are now posting their stories on-line at lories_friends and in their LJs and web sites. We hope you'll friend the community (it's members-only for the LJers who participated in the project) so you can see all the stories as they begin to appear on-line.

If you'd like a copy of the book in its published form, please contact baranduin at baranduin98055@yahoo.com and she'll get a copy printed for you.

I'm a good month late with this, but - I was amazed to see - not the last one in this time! In fact, I'm still amazed I managed to finish this story at all. Maybe I need someone to set up strict deadlines for all my writing...

Enough blathering - here it is, my little story "For Lorie". :) *introduces her shiny new Éomer icon for this momentous occasion*

Title: The Hobbit and the Storyteller
Author name: Ourdramaqueen
Fandom: LOTR
Pairing: Frodo/Éomer, pre-slash
Rating: PG
Summary: Éomer and Frodo meet for the first time.
Betas: Many thanks to trianne and claudia603 for the lightning-fast edit/beta!
For Lorie: You probably don't know me, but your Frodo/Éomer stories have brought me much joy, so I thought it only right to give some of it back. I hope I succeeded!

Éomer couldn't recall how he'd ended up at the door to the Ringbearer's room in the Houses of Healing. He'd been ousted from Éowyn's room when she had insisted, despite threats from the healers, on taking a proper bath, claiming the sponge baths she'd been given so far only made her feel more grimy. With free time suddenly at his disposal, Éomer had let his feet guide him, and the sight of King Elessar--Aragorn--bent over a pale figure, glimpsed through a half-open door, had stopped him in his tracks.

It wasn't the first time he had seen the King of Gondor tend to the sick and wounded--after all, his own sister was among the ones blessed by the King's healing hands--but never to the Ringbearer himself. In fact, he had seen the Ringbearer but a few times, when they had brought him back from the Black Lands and he had still been unconscious. Éomer had heard about him, of course, from Meriadoc and Peregrin, as well as from their companions on the Quest. He'd grown curious to meet this Halfling who seemed to leave an indelible impression upon all he met, but the Ringbearer was weak, his recovery slow, and Éomer did not want to impose.

"Do you intend to stand there very much longer, or will you come in?"

Éomer realised that Aragorn had spoken to him, though he had his back turned, but before he could start stammering an apology, Aragorn turned to him with a grin and waved him into the room.

"You arrived at the right moment. I could use some help, if you don't mind, my friend."

Éomer bowed briefly, before hesitantly entering the room. "Of course. Though I have to warn you that I am utterly useless as a nurse, or so my sister tells me." He kept his voice low, so as not to disturb the sleeping Ringbearer.

Aragorn chuckled, then pointed to a side table. "If you could hand me the basin, please."

While Éomer got the required object, which was filled with water steeped in a herb he knew the healers called Athelas and with a cloth folded over its edge, Aragorn relieved the sleeping Halfling of his nightgown, but kept his lower body covered by the sheet. "I put him in a healing trance," he explained. "His sleep is still fitful, and both his body and spirit need rest to regain strength. Could you hold him for me please--like this?"

Before he could blink, Éomer found himself sitting on the bed, holding the half-naked Ringbearer while Aragorn unwrapped his wounds. Éomer couldn't help but stare; the Halfling was so thin as to be almost skeletal, and with each bandage removed, another scar was uncovered, each standing out in contrast to the pale, soft skin--softer than a maiden's, Éomer thought. Though there seemed to be something special about him, something that he hadn't seen in the other Halflings, at this moment the frail figure in his arms seemed little more than an emaciated child--it was difficult to believe that he had saved Middle Earth.

"It is much more than strength of body that saved Middle Earth."

Éomer blushed, realising as he heard Aragorn's soft words that he had spoken out loud. But Aragorn didn't reproach him.

"Frodo was close to death when the eagles brought him back. Both Gandalf and I had to send our spirits inside him to heal him, to help him find his way back. And what we saw..." Éomer saw a flash of pain in Aragorn's eyes, before the King of Gondor closed them briefly; after a deep breath he took the basin and started washing Frodo's body, paying particular attention to his wounds. In a quiet voice, he told Éomer not only about these wounds, but also of Frodo's struggle, day by day, heartbeat by heartbeat, for his very soul. Éomer shuddered to hear it; could he have borne that burden for so long? Could anyone, but Frodo Baggins of the Shire?

Aragorn paused, looking at Éomer. "Frodo possesses the rarest form of courage: courage of the heart. It is a quiet kind of courage, not wishing for rewards or renown. It is that courage, and Sam's hope, that helped Frodo to endure."

"Endurance beyond hope, and hope unquenchable," Éomer whispered. Gandalf had murmured these words after the most urgent needs of the Ringbearer and his faithful companion Samwise had been cared for, and he had brought the remnant of the Fellowship and their friends and allies together to tell them a little of what he and Aragorn had learned. Éomer had not understood these words then, but he understood them now.

Silence fell between them while they bound the wounds anew and dressed the Ringbearer in his nightgown again. He looked so peaceful, yet Éomer knew those wounds, in body and soul, would take a lot of time to heal, and he found himself wishing he could do something to help.

Éomer was still deep in thought when Aragorn rose.

"I have an important appointment to attend to now. I'm sure you won't mind staying a while, so Frodo won't wake up alone?" Before Éomer had a chance to reply, Aragorn inclined his head with a "Thank you, my friend," and was gone, leaving Éomer to wonder what had just happened.

*******

Frodo was still sleeping an hour later, and Éomer stood leaning against the windowsill, looking out across the White City and the great plain stretching out beyond it in the afternoon light. He'd thought a lot about what Aragorn had told him, and the lessons he could learn from it for his own kingship. He swore to remember Aragorn's words. "Courage of the heart," he murmured.

"That sounds like the title of an interesting story," a new voice suddenly said, grave and sleep--heavy.

Éomer turned to find the Ringbearer awake, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, blinking away the remnants of the healing trance he'd been in. Éomer bowed.

"Forgive me, Ringbearer, I did not realise you had awakened. I am Éomer son of Éomund."

"King Éomer?" Frodo's eyes widened, revealing them to be blue as the winter sky above Rohan. He tried to rise, but immediately gave up. "Frodo son of Drogo, at your service. I beg your pardon for not bowing, but..." he gestured at his prostrate form with his unmaimed hand.

"Please, do not exert yourself on my behalf, Ringbearer. I don't stand on ceremony unless it is necessary."

"Then I insist that you stop calling me 'Ringbearer'. It seems everyone but the other members of the Fellowship is trying to forget I have a name."

Éomer grinned. "I cannot claim that I don't know that feeling. I insist in turn then, that you stop calling me 'King'. Éomer will do fine while we are in private."

"Agreed. But please, sit down. It wearies me to look up so high."

Éomer apologised for his thoughtlessness and after propping Frodo up against some cushions, sat down at the edge of the bed again.

Frodo looked at him quizzically. "So, how come you are here instead of Aragorn? Not that I mind at all, having heard so much about you from my cousins," he hastened to add with a grin.

Éomer, fast finding himself rather fascinated by those extraordinary eyes, suppressed his reaction. "The King of Gondor had a very important appointment, and he therefore asked me to keep you company."

"Did he, now?" For a moment the corners of Frodo's mouth seemed to twitch up into an amused smile, but his features settled into a study of innocent puzzlement so quickly that Éomer wasn't sure if he'd imagined it.

"So, since Aragorn won't be reading to me as he had promised--what about that story?"

For a moment Éomer just stared at the Halfling in confusion, then broke into laughter as he remembered the first words Frodo had spoken upon waking. "Are you always this single-minded?"

Frodo's smile grew. "I guess I've been called that before, though I believe Aunt Eglantine used the word 'stubborn'."

Éomer shook his head, grinning--he liked the spirit Frodo was showing. If he needed a story to help him pass the long, lonely hours, who was Éomer to deny him?

"Well--hose words aren't, in fact, the title of a story, but I do remember one for which they would be an accurate description. I may not be as talented as a bard, but if you are interested, Frodo son of Drogo, I will tell it to you anyway and try not to ruin it too badly." He winked at Frodo, who nodded eagerly, eyes flashing with enthusiasm, making him seem more alive despite his frailty.

After a few moments collecting his thoughts, Éomer launched into a story from a time long ago, about a young horse that had been separated from his herd and had to find his way back to them all on his own through many dangers.

*******

The sun was approaching the horizon when one of the healers came by to inform them, disapproval clear in his voice, that the Ringbearer really needed some rest now. After Éomer had finished his story, to which Frodo had listened with eyes closed over long stretches, a smile constantly on his lips, they had talked about their homes and their families, and Éomer had been telling Frodo how his sister Éowyn and he had ended up living with their uncle Théoden, when they were interrupted.

"Will you come by again soon? There's so much I still need to learn about y--about Rohan," Frodo said, barely able to suppress a yawn as Éomer helped him lie down again.

"I can't promise you when or for how long, but I will come by tomorrow, if you would like that."

Frodo smiled up at him sleepily. "I would like that very much. Thank you." His hand touched Éomer's for a brief moment, causing Éomer to shiver with something he couldn't quite name, and Frodo's sleep-heavy eyes widen in response.

Éomer smiled back. "It will be my pleasure, then."

*******

Leaving silently, Éomer decided that while he didn't quite know what to name that feeling, it felt good, and he would let it take him--them--where it would.

Drama Level: accomplished
Current Tags: fan fic by odq, fan fic: lotr: fps, fan fic: pairing: frodo/eomer