Disclaimer: Pel and Tel own nothing in this whole wide world. This should inspire pity, not anger at their pathetic borrowing of characters greater than themselves. Only Tolkien and New Line Cinema can claim ownership over the following characters and places.

Hey, does anyone remember us? Probably not. We're Pel and Tel! We wrote two stories about a year ago, called "The Truth Behind the Fellowship" and "Boromir and Sally". Unfortunately, both were in script format, and taken off of the site quite quickly. We were very sad, and it has taken us a long time to recover. Now we're back, with what we hope will become a humorous series of one-shots. We hope you'll tolerate any inconsistencies with characters, places, objects, or adjectives. Review and tell us if you liked it or didn't. It takes a lot to hurt our feelings.

The following is an (hopefully) amusing tale of Eomer in the days right after Sauron's defeat. The amusement pills should kick in right around the end….

As yet another loud roar of approval rose from the assembled crowd of villagers, Eomer, nephew of the late King Theoden, thought fondly of his quiet and comfortable bed. Unfortunately, his bed was as unlikely a goal as victory over Lord Sauron had once been.

'Who knew peace would be so loud?' the young warrior questioned himself wryly. The surprised joy and energy of the people could be felt in every corner of the great hall. No one had truly expected to see another happy moment in their lives. After King Theoden had been put under Saruman's thrall, it had seemed only a matter of time before the fall of the once great kingdom of Rohan. It was only thanks to two very small hobbits that any bit of excitement and happiness was left within Middle Earth.

So, of course, to properly show their gratitude to the small heroes, the people of Rohan were drinking and eating as much as they possibly could. The hobbits would have completely approved of being honored in such a fashion.

Eomer knew, deep within his heart, that everyone around him was mourning the loss of their leader, King Theoden. Such a death could not pass unnoticed. However, he could not help but feel bitter over the smiling faces about him. Didn't these people know how to properly mourn the dead? Could they show no respect at all? If his Uncle had been killed in a time of peace, the grief would have been overwhelming to all. A parade would have been held, stories would have been told, and the King would have been correctly mourned and put to rest with his ancestors. Lord Sauron, it seemed, had managed to change even the most ancient of traditions.

Suddenly the crowd grew quiet as yet another man stood up with his glass held high. Eomer tried his very best not to sigh at the ridiculous gesture. Eloquent and well- spoken words could not change what was, nor what had been. They were, in the eyes of the seasoned fighter, a waste of precious time and breath. The only good part of the entire thing was being allowed to take yet another swig of the intoxicating liquid that filled his cup.

Although he found speeches quite boring, Eomer suddenly found himself paying attention once he realized that the man about to speak was Faramir, son of the late Denethor. Being no fool, Eomer had recognized the young man's affection for his sister Eowyn early on. It was well known that both Denethor and Boromir had held certain unsavory character traits. It was unclear as of yet if the youngest son shared any similarities with his dead relatives. Eomer planned to keep a close eye on him, so that he might deal with the man efficiently later on.

To his credit, Faramir realized that his every move was being watched carefully. Eowyn had already warned him that her brother was not necessarily the most friendly of men. Denethor's insanity was no secret, which meant Faramir had even more ground to gain than before. It had been that fact that had driven him to stand in front of this crowd of overly exuberant villagers and propose a toast to their difficult past, their great country, and their bright future. Now, as he reached the end of his speech, Faramir knew that his next words would have to be very carefully chosen.

"This land was founded upon strength and courage. It is kept still today by the very same strength and courage, which runs swiftly within the blood of your leaders. King Theoden and his forefathers took care of their people with both wisdom and justice. They were impressive men who took charge in difficult and dark times. Though they have left a vast and imposing challenge upon the shoulders of their beloved decendant, I've no doubt in my mind that the new King will make them proud." At this, Faramir paused briefly and looked around at the crowd of hopeful people around them. He truly believed they were in fair and capable hands. "To the new King!" he shouted with a smile. It was soon followed by the echoed sentiments of the people, as well as much drinking and laughter.

Deep within his own thoughts, Eomer barely noticed the smug smile his sister was sending his way. She clearly was very impressed with Faramir's little announcement. He had been too, up until Faramir had mentioned the new king. Now Eomer's thoughts had once again turned dark and foreboding. Who really knew if the new king would be a good one? Just because he had royal blood in his veins didn't mean he'd make a good leader. Perhaps he would be terrible. What did it matter to them, so long as he was related to men that they had loved and respected? The villagers' loyalties were easily won with cheap words and flashy gestures. They knew no better.

'Theodred would have been a good king. Perhaps even a great one,' Eomer brooded angrily. As always, too much drink led him to the same conclusion he had reached ever since the death of his cousin. Theodred had died too young, and it should have been himself instead. His cousin was the son of a king, destined to manage the powerful country laid out before him. As his cousin, Eomer had been destined to follow behind his king and guard him with his life. Fate, it seemed, found it all too amusing to cause discord and strife. Theodred had not been a prince to the orcs, nor had he been one to Death. He had simply been another man whose time had come before he had even had the chance to prove himself worthy of the life he had been given. Now Eomer was forced to live a life not originally meant for him. He was sure he would destroy the entire kingdom.

"Here's to the new king," he mumbled under his breath, followed by a laugh filled with irony and loathing. Before he could slip into complete self-pity, he was grabbed by the arm and rather unceremoniously yanked up from his seat.

"You are not going to spend the entire night sitting here by yourself! You must laugh, jest, and dance. Show the people that you are as hopeful as they." Eomer tried to give his little sister a smile, but found the task somewhat beyond his ability. How much had he had to drink this evening?

Eowyn, being neither patient nor very sympathetic, tried to march her brother off to the middle of the room for a dance. However, the moment she started moving forward, all of her brother's weight began to shift and slide so that it was bearing down upon her. A few quick steps back and a shove to the shoulder had her brother in an upright position once again. The bright and strong-willed woman prepared to scold her brother for his immaturity when, much to her horror and dismay, she saw Eomer start to slowly tip backwards.

Eomer, who was quite unsure as to why everyone was tilting and spinning so rudely, quickly grabbed onto his sister with a very firm grip. He tried his very best to pull himself into what he assumed was an upright position. Then, with no warning whatsoever, he let out a belch loud enough to shame a dwarf straight into a shocked Eowyn's face.

What little pity she may have held for her brother fled Eowyn's mind immediately. "I can not believe you are so very drunk!" she whispered fiercely in the tipsy man's ear. "You could not have possibly picked a worse night to do this. All of Rohan is looking upon us to set a good example." Eowyn stepped back and tried her best to hold a look of serenity upon her face. However, she whispered quietly to herself, "Why must we women depend upon men to always lead us? So far I have found that the lot of them are nothing but a disappointment."

"That is hardly fair," said a voice so close to her ear that it caused Eowyn to jump. She whirled around quickly and found a silly grin spreading across her lips. Faramir stood before her with a rather worried expression upon his face.

"Is your brother ill?" he asked in a hushed tone as he wrapped an arm carefully around her waist.

"Mentally, perhaps. Physically he is simply too intoxicated to stand on his own. Please, help me get him to his seat without making his condition too obvious." Eowyn and Faramir both grabbed one of Eomer's arms in what appeared to be a friendly gesture. In truth, they had to do so to keep him from falling flat on his face. They reached a chair with no incident, and Eowyn quickly handed her brother a cup of water in the hopes of flushing out the alcohol that had so easily taken command of his mind and body.

Although the situation was far from amusing, Eomer could not help but laugh. "What is the matter, sister dearest? Worried that I will embarrass us in front of the new king?"

Eowyn gave her brother a look of mixed confusion, fury, and pity. "This is no time to joke, you fool. As the new king, you must always show a dignified and proper manner."

Eomer nodded thoughtfully at this while he took a long drink of the cool and refreshing water. He soon began to choke on it, however, when a horrifying thought struck his inhibited mind.

Eowyn rushed to his side and carefully pried the cup from his grasp. "What ever is the matter, brother dearest?" she asked mockingly. "Did you just realize what a fool you have been?"

"No," Eomer said with rather large eyes. "I just realized that I am going to be the new king!"

Review if you'd like. Hopefully you found it at least a little funny.