LOTR/Hobbit Imagines

Éomer - Lost in Translation

That comment made you blush even more. You looked the other way to try and hide it from your friend, but you should have known she would notice.

"So you did meet someone? Tell me!"

"No!" you hissed at her. "If I tell you, you would only try and make me go talk to him."

Before your friend could say anything, you were interrupted by a young nobleman coming into the kitchen. This was highly unusual.

"Excuse me my lady, would you mind hurrying up with the rest of the food? The guests are waiting," he asked with a bored expression.

Your friend smiled at him, gently guiding him out of the kitchen. "Of course my lord. I am sorry for the inconvenience. My servant will open the buffets right away."

Servant? Oh, now I'm suddenly the servant. But you had to give it to her, she knew how to work these people. If it were you who had to handle that person, you'd probably rolled your eyes at him and told him you only had two hands to work with, not four.

"Okay, Y/N. You heard me, go to the tables in the great hall and help the guests serve their food. Whatever you do, don't leave the food alone. Especially the desserts because I made just about enough for everyone. I'll help out as soon as I can."

"Yes, my lady," you said, making a small curtsy as a joke.

*

This was something you almost enjoyed. Almost.

People came to you and you only had to see they didn't overfill their plate, so there was enough for everyone. If you saw someone having trouble cutting off a slice of meat, you gave them a hand.
You preferred this work over the walking around with appetizers job, because this time you didn't have to look people in the eye.

Except with one person of course...

You had noticed him when you were walking around with your plate. Clumsy as you were, you tripped over your own feet and if it weren't for him, you had thrown all the stew on the ground. He had grabbed you by your upper arms and steadied you, without spilling one drop of the stew.

"Wow, quick reflexes," you gasped, and then your breath hitched because you finally had a good look at your saviour.

He was tall, but not towering over you. Dark eyes in a gruff, but friendly face. Your eyes trailed from his broad chest, down his forearms and then his hands, which were still holding on to your arms.

"Are you okay, my lady?" he asked.

You blinked a couple of times and smiled. "Yeah... Yeah, I am alright. I am sorry, I'm so clumsy!"

"Don't worry about it," he smiled.

You held up the plate to him. "Stew?"

After he took one of the bowls, you rushed around handing out the other bowls, your eyes often wandering towards him. Even though he was talking to some of the other guests, he always returned your gaze. When you finally handed out the last one, he winked at you and that made you return to the kitchen with flushed cheeks.

When he joined the line at the buffet, you started to get nervous. What if your clumsiness made you do something embarrassing again? Oh my god, what if you chucked some gravy on his expensive clothes?

Your hands started sweating and you wiped them off on your dress. He passed you, filling up his plate without asking for assistance, and you were almost disappointed he didn't take one look at you when he suddenly said,
"My name is Éomer."

You stood there perplexed, not realising at first it was you he was talking to. But when his dark eyes met yours, you answered automatically.

"Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He smiled and walked away with his plate only half full. You followed him with your eyes and forgot you were holding a serving spoon, dropping it to the ground with a loud clatter only a few seconds after.

Your friend had chosen that moment to come and assist you. She had one eyebrow perked up and you half expected her to tell you off for whatever she thought you were doing wrong, but to your surprise that didn't happen.

"Was that him?"

You sighed, shaking your head in response. You should've known this was coming.

"Come on, work with me here," she said, starting to speak in Elvish. The both of you learned the Elven language when you were young and often switched to it if you wanted to have a secret conversation. Since there weren't any Elves present, it was safe for them to use it.
You rolled your eyes, there wasn't anyone there at the buffet so you got away with the gesture.

"Fine. Okay? Yes, he is the one I was talking about," you admitted.

"Well? Go talk to him!"

See? You knew this would happen.

"I can't leave the food. The desserts need protection."

"But there is another dessert waiting for you." She nodded her head towards Éomer.

You bit your lip.

"He is cute though."

Your friend nodded, a smirk appearing on her face. "Has a nice butt too."

Your eyes widened at her comment, thanking Eru Illúvatar nobody could understand what she was saying to you. At least, you hoped no one could.

You couldn't help but let your eyes wander to where he was standing, glancing at a particular area. When you looked up again, you saw him staring back at you. You felt your cheeks burning, realising you were caught staring at his butt. You saw your friend barely holding her laughter.

After a couple of minutes Éomer was lost in the crowd. By that time a lot of guests wanted dessert so you were thankful your friend was there to help you.

When Éomer joined the line at the end of the buffet, you drew the attention of your friend again with a little wave.

"He does have a nice butt."

"It's probably not the right time for me to say to you that I understand Elvish?" a voice sounded, making your blood run cold.

"Y-you do?" your friend stuttered.

Éomer grabbed a slice of cake.

"I had to learn it because we do a lot of business with the Elves of Lórien. It comes in handy once in a while," he grinned.

You were still speechless. Your friend noticed and thought she could intervene and 'help'.

"Well, then you know Y/N over there thinks you're really cute."

He looked at you, his eyes full of mischief. It was adorable.
"Does she now?"

He took a bite of his slice of cake, his eyes never leaving yours.

"She also thinks you have a nice butt," she added. Éomer almost choked on the piece of cake in his mouth. That's it, you were going to plan her funeral later tonight.

"I'm so sorry," you tried to apologize.

"Don't be, I'm flattered," he laughed. "What do you say, when you're done here, you want to go and take a walk outside with me and my butt?"

"I'd love to!"

*

When the feast was over and you were almost done cleaning everything up, your friend called you over to the kitchen.

"I talked to one of the guards just now."

"And?" you asked, not understanding where she would take this.

"They always speak Westron when communicating with Lórien," they whispered. "Éomer doesn't understand Elvish at all!"

You looked towards the mostly empty hall, where Éomer stood waiting for you. He had an extra cloak hanging over his arm, for you to use on your walk, and was looking towards you.

"You don't understand a single thing of what I'm saying to you, do you?" you said to him. He just smiled in return, a slight panic in his eyes.

"Hey, at least you got a date out of it!" your friend laughed.