Authors notes:
Sorry it is only short but it is something. This part only has Éomer in, so sorry to all you Éowyn fans. Also sorry if this idea has been used before; if so then just tell me. Thank you
Now the story
The empty throne of Rohan
As Éomer walked into the golden hall the grand carvings of horses on the walls did not seem as powerful as they once did. The fireplace in the middle of the hall had the old ashes inside of the last fire that burnt brightly that kept king Théoden warm before he rode out into battle.
He drew his sword and walk slowly over towards the fireplace. He started to poke the ashes with the tip of his sword. For some reason a part of him did not want to go anywhere near the throne which his uncle had once sat so proudly upon. But then another part did.
Placing his sword back into its scabbard he leaned against one of the pillars. He stared at the wooden throne at the end of the hall. For no reason a cold shiver ran down his spine. This took his gaze off the throne, but when his eyes met back with the chair two pale people were there. One was an old man sitting on the throne, his eyes were white and he had a pained expression on his face. The other was a young man who looked a lot alike the old man. He two had white eyes and a pained expression but his clothes around his stomach were painted red with blood.
Éomer did not take his eyes off the two figures and neither did they on him. Éomer moved forwards and knelt on the floor in front of them.
''Forgive me my Lords' Éomer stuttered 'I did not mean to stare'
The two figures did not move but blinking slowly as if the dropping and lifting of the eye lids took up most of there strength. They were lifeless. Not even there chests moved up and down with the breaths that they took. Éomer knew that these people were dead; he was with his uncle when he died and knew from his sister that Théodred had also passed away. But for some reason he believed that they were alive. He did not know what to do. Was he going mad or were these the ghosts of his uncle and cousin?
Éomer carried on looking at the figures. He stood up and took a deep breath. He reached out his hand and took a small step forwards. The figures did not move. He carried on stepping slowly towards his uncle on the throne. Then life came into to the ghostly figures. Théodred placed his arm down to his side and Théoden stood up. They both looked into the eyes of Éomer. Éomer felt himself jump backwards as the full force of there glares hit him. As he looked back at Théoden and Théodred they both bowed at him and then started to walk out of the hall towards the door.
Éomer did nothing but stare at the two figures almost glide across the floor so gracefully and disappear through the door. He fell back onto the throne and put his head into his hands. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, the lump in his throat. He began to weep into his hands. He wished that his mind had not played this trick on him. He wished that his sister was here with him, she is the only person in which he trusts. Éomer's mind was swimming with different ideas. He wanted to believe that it was Théoden and Théodred but in the end he decided that it was the lack of sleep which had caused him to have this vision.
As the tears had stopped trickling out of the eyes of Éomer he looked up as the sound of the main door open. He jumped off the throne as if he did not belong on it to find his sister walk through the doors with a hooded person who must have been the guest.
Éomer acknowledged Éowyn and her guest as they walked through the hall.
Éomer then walked over to the table at the side of the hall. He opened a bottle of his uncle's favourite wine and poured himself a large glass. He then stumbled back and collapsed on the throne and looked around the empty room.