Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire.

Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire. Part Twelve

"My Lord? My Lord Éomer!?" 

"Wake up, lad. This is urgent."

The young lord awoke to the gentle touch of pressure on his shoulders; two colossally strong hands slowly jerking him from his fleeting slumber.

"...Sorry for the intrusion, boy, but we had been banging at the door for a good while..."

Instantly gathering his baring at the deep tones of the voices, the prince promptly remembered where he was; (Y/N)s chambers. 

He glanced down at himself and saw that he had been resting in a frayed wicker chair that sat next to the open window, covered in a light-cotton sheet and was still reaching out to hold the maids hand as she snored softly in her bed. Éomer smiled to himself for a moment before then looking up to see Feramil towering over him, and a young guard standing at the foot of the mattress, both of them trying their best to calm the wide grin that was spreading across their cheeks. The lord motioned for them to move over to the doorway, letting the blanket pool to the floor as he speedily stood up, the rippling muscles of his bare torso revealed. 

"What is this? Whats happened?" He hissed rather angrily.

Feramil straightened up, eyeing the soldier who stood by as his smirk swiftly changed to a hardened grimace. "Another Orc attack, lad. Down by the river. Our guess was correct in thinking it was how they are moving themselves about so quickly."

"Is anyone hurt?-" Éomer promptly began to silently pull on a tunic that was folded neatly by the bed, preparing himself to leave. "-Are the men out there?"

Wolf stood in place for a moment, raking through his whirring thoughts before gesturing at the nearby guard, who was now nervously rolling his tongue behind his teeth. "Go on boy, wait outside-" Feramil growled quietly. "-And you-" He jabbed a stubby finger in Éomers direction with a grimace. "-You might want to sit back down." 

The soldier solemnly nodded, quickly removing himself from the room and sighing thankfully while leaning back against the wall outside as the door was silently closed behind him. Back inside however, the young Lord was busying himself between glancing over his shoulder at (Y/N) laying in her bed, and then slowly looking back to Wolf with a worried expression. "Tell me." He whispered.

"Just...sit. Trust me." Feramil rumbled out in an attempt to comfort his friend. Éomer shuffled slightly to lean his body against the wall and faced Wolf straight on, but did not sit down. Knowing this was the best he would get from the royal, Feramil continued with a heavy exhale of stale, beer-soaked breath. "-We had the soldiers poised and ready to go, just like agreed. The guards at the gate notified us of a disturbance, near old West Emnet and so we headed out-" Wolf paused for a brief moment, judging how best to proceed based on the body language radiating from the boy. "-Only when we arrived, the Orcs had already been dealt with. Most of them dead or severely wounded."

"Already dealt with? How? And Who?" Éomer let the surprise of the news show on his face, his eyebrows knitting together harshly as unfolded his arms from across his chest.