Originally written in 2006 for a drabble meme. My requester wanted Frodo/Éomer in Minas Tirith.
High above the City they stand: King and Ringbearer. The wind whips Frodo’s hair into a tumbled mane of glossy brown. Éomer stares … how would it feel to wind those silken strands through his fingers, to tug gently and bend to that velvet mouth…
The wild air goes to his head like wine.
“Why are you here?” he dares the question at last.
“Must you ask?” Frodo’s eyes hold the limitless blue of the sky over golden plains.
A rush like the thunder of hooves sweeps through Éomer.
The curls cling to his fingers as if they are alive.