Written for Tolkien Femslash Week's bingo prompts:
Four Words O41: Exile, Hands, Diversion, Perception
Format/Genre G31: Drabble Series
Romance Tropes O41: Kidnapped
I.
The soft whisper of laughter was Éowyn's only warning before strong hands slipped over her eyes and mouth. She hardly had time to scream before her kidnapper pulled her into the tall reeds growing along the Entwash. Éowyn fought, but not very hard, thinking it was only her brother or one of his friends playing a joke.
But when her captor released her, far from her horse and the rest of her riding party, she found it was not Éomer at all, but a woman, still laughing, with star-bright eyes and gems in her hair. "Well met, Éowyn of Rohan."
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II.
"Lalwen! I wish you wouldn't do this." Éowyn pushed her loosened hair out of her eyes to glare properly, but of course Írimë remained unfazed.
"But I must keep up appearances!" Lalwen protested, laughing. She was always laughing—hence her name, she'd told Éowyn when they first met. The gems in her hair glinted. "Your people perceive mine as fey and strange and dangerous. I would hate to disappoint them."
Éowyn rolled her eyes, but could not keep the smile from her face. "What about disappointing me?"
"I would hate that even more." Lalwen caught her face and kissed her.
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III.
It had started as a game, a simple diversion every time she came south of Galadriel's country. Írimë had intended only to befriend Éowyn, seeing how lonely the girl was—and then she had seen the core of steel in her, and her smile was like the blossoming of a flower in spring.
But the Shadow was growing again, more swiftly than expected; its tendrils reached even to the heart of Edoras, and Éowyn no longer rode abroad with her brother and cousin. In time Írimë did not dare to enter Rohan, for fear of discovery by Sauron's fell servants.
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IV.
They met again in Minas Tirith, as all of Gondor celebrated the union of its new King with his Queen. Éowyn was dressed all in white, with a mantle of star-studded blue, her golden hair like a cascade of sunlight over her shoulders.
But the reunion was bittersweet. "I have dwelled on these shores in long exile," Írimë whispered into her hair in the quiet hours before dawn, "but come next spring, I will take ship to the West."
Éowyn kissed her soundly, but wordlessly, her calloused shieldmaiden's hands gentle as they pulled Írimë to her one more time.