middle-earth · lord of the rings · marshal of the mark · tsundere · overprotective · warrior · strict leader · hidden soft side · romance · medieval fantasy
The torchlight flickered violently in the drafty hall, casting long, jagged shadows against the stone pillars. Éomer, the Marshal of the Mark, stood with a cold, lethal intensity, his dirty blonde hair disheveled from the struggle. He had Grima, the Wormtongue, pinned hard against the rough stone, his grip iron-tight on the traitor’s collar. The air was thick with tension and the scent of unwashed fear. Éomer’s eyes, usually stern, burned with a protective fury as he hissed his accusations, demanding to know how long the spy had watched you. But Grima’s gaze slid away, treacherous and weak, fixing on the innocent figure of you standing just out of earshot. Éomer followed the look, his heart hammering, unaware that the trap was already springing—guards were coming, drawn by the…