Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) Title: How the Eorlings Ride (#2089) Author: NeumeIndil Chapters: 1 Archive: Tolkien Category: Lord of the Rings (Movieverse) Description: Poor Merry. Pippin just had to look in the palantir. Now, separated from his cousin for the first time since leaving the Shire, Merry finds himself feeling rather lonely during his stay in Edoras. He has no need to fear, though; company is on the way. Special thanks to SpaceWeavil for beta services rendered. Part of the Gamling/Morwen series titled Nights in Rohan Nominated for the 2006 MEFA. Winner: Honorable Mention- Genres, Humor, General ~*~Thank you Robinka!~*~ Published: 25 Jul 2005 Updated: 25 Jul 2005 Warnings: Implied sex. Type: Humour Characters: Gamling; Merry; Eothain; Eomer; OCs Chapter 1 - Ch. 1 (and only) “Come on, then, who wants to see it? Everybody throw in a coin or two and I’ll make the arrangements. We shall teach our new friend how the Eorlings ride,” Éothain said with a wink that sent every man at the table into peals of laughter. Everyone was in high spirits now that they were back in Edoras and wanted a bit of fun. Gamling shook his head in disapproval but said nothing. Let them try to play their little joke on the halfling. Most likely it would come to nothing but a waste of their money. However, the more he thought, the more he realized that the little hobbit had been terribly sad since his friend left with the Grey Pilgrim. Perhaps this would cheer Master Merry, but only if done carefully. “Come, Gamling. Surely you’ll not miss this?” “Do I have to pay money to simply sit and drink my ale? Go on with your foolishness and let me enjoy my drink in peace,” he said gesturing to a serving wench for a refill. “Who shall I ask, my lords?” Éothain asked collecting coins down the table. “The little blonde one with the…?” one man suggested making a gesture not usually seen in polite company. Gamling snorted. Polite company? Here? Never. “What about the new girl? The young one?” “Whoever she is she’d better be short,” a third man piped up, causing laughs all down the table. Across the room at the bar sat the little halfling, slumped over his pint with his chin on his hands. Thinking carefully of each woman employed in this particular tavern, Gamling made his suggestion. “Morwen,” he said quietly. “Morwen? Gamling, how many have you had? She’s almost as tall as I am!” Éothain asked skeptically. “Be funnier that way,” the first soldier said. “I’m sorry you find lack of height a difficulty,” Gamling said with a pointed look at the table above the younger man’s lap. “Do you want to see this work or not? The little blonde won’t do it and the new girl is not here.” “I saw her earlier,” Éothain argued. “She was talking to Éom— never mind.” Gamling noted the look if disappointment on his face with a sly grin. Ha! Once again stealth and observation beat bluster and cockiness. He’d watched Éomer seduce the girl into a willing mood easily enough and escort her politely upstairs about ten minutes earlier. Éothain had not even suspected the theft of his night’s chosen prize. He’d been too busy talking. “I’ve been wenching for longer than you’ve been alive, Sprout. Morwen’s the best choice.” “She’s pretty enough,” one man said, nodding. “Exotic.” “Not my taste,” another chimed in, “too… motherly.” “Funny,” Éothain shot across the table, “I thought mothers were just your type. Do we listen to this seasoned council then? Shall I go procure said lady?” Gamling sipped his ale. The rest nodded and Éothain left the table. In his absence, the woman in question appeared. She was older than many but not overly long into her career. The dew had not fully faded from that flower just yet. She was closer to plump than many of the younger women, which if Gamling guessed correctly suited the hobbit well. He’d shared a cup or two with the little Shire folk when they first arrived and had listened carefully to their jests with each other, trying to learn more about their kind through subtext. They seemed, to his practiced eye, a good simple people with an optimistic streak. Merry and Pippin had told stories and sung songs and joked back and forth all night, sparing none they knew to be friendly from their jests. They’d even gently teased Gamling for his quiet reserve and he’d glowered good-naturedly but said nothing. To speak would have ruined the joke. When talk of women came up, as it usually did among single men drinking, the hobbits grew quieter, but gradually details emerged. Apparently Pippin fancied a particular blonde lass in their homeland named Diamond. Merry, however, had said nothing of specific females, only mentioned some traits he didn’t particularly fancy. Among those was blonde hair. Morwen, like her namesake of old, had jet-black hair, long and gently curling to her waist when it was down, and on more than one occasion Gamling had enjoyed smoothing those waves between his fingers, watching candlelight gleam off each strand. She had several other fine attributes as well, but in a room full of blondes, her hair made her stand out. Her mother, she said, was of Gondor and her green eyes spoke to that fact as strongly as her height. Exotic. Yes, that was it. Exotic. Most importantly, she knew what she was doing. Gamling was not entirely sure the hobbit had any experience, but Morwen was good to first timers and old hands alike. He would talk to her anyway, just in case. Éothain had gone looking for her in the wrong direction and with a lift of brow and a cock of his head, Gamling caught Morwen’s eye and sent her to the back of the room, leaving the table to join her. “Hello Gamling.” “My lady Morwen. How do you fare this evening?” he asked, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. Her eyes lingered there and roamed obviously down his torso as she spoke, beginning their typical games. “I am well, though I am sure my state is about to improve,” she said with a smile. Gamling still, even at his age, colored slightly across the cheeks. “I am not entirely sure that is the case. You see, the men have taken it upon themselves to see that the Halfling there, the little chap at the bar with the big feet, enjoys his stay in Edoras.” “Ah, yes,” she said. “You’ll want Lilly, then. She’s the smallest, and very sweet.” “Actually, Morwen, I do not think so. He is, well, a bit of an acquaintance and I have found he has preferences similar to my own.” He toyed with a coal black lock that dangled against her neck then traced the skin there with a calloused fingertip. “Besides, I am afraid he may be a bit… unskilled.” Her smile deepened and he caught the slightest of shivers running down her back. She liked Gamling and apparently liked the idea of deflowering a hobbit. She would do this gladly, she decided as Gamling reached for her wandering hand. He slipped a few coins into it and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Whatever happens in there, make the lad look good. Consider it a personal favor.” “You are kindness itself, my lord Gamling, putting Éothain in his place again. What of your own comfort?” she purred, laying a hand on his solid bicep. “Perhaps you and I will chat later, after my friend has enjoyed your pleasurable company.” He smiled down into her sparkling green eyes and decided that they would most definitely chat later. He let his hand wander from her own up her arm to her back, rubbing gently. She broke into a grin just before Éothain spied them and jostled through the crowd to join the conversation. “Ah, mistress Morwen, just who we were looking for. I have a request to make of you if you don’t mind.” “Of course, Master Éothain,” she said, taking the younger man’s arm. She looked back over her shoulder as she walked away and winked subtly at Gamling, nibbling her bottom lip. She really did like Gamling, beyond most regular customers. He was a very gifted man in many respects, but unlike some of the quiet ones, Gamling was always kind to her and the other girls. As Éothain rambled in her ear with his usual mix of bravado and false flattery she thought about Gamling’s request. Make the lad look good? Shouldn’t be too difficult and would probably be quite fun. She’d never actually seen a hobbit before a few days ago, let alone done anything else with one. This was a new challenge, a first in her career. She found herself growing excited. She ignored Éothain’s instructions, nodding politely with a slightly exaggerated pout to her lower lip. Whatever his plans were, hers were most likely different, but that could only work out in her favor since Gamling seemed almost as invested in the halfling’s enjoyment as she was. Éothain slipped more coins into her hand and patted her bottom as she walked away, then seated himself with his comrades again. Morwen looked closely at the halfling for a short time making plans, then sat down beside him. The moment Morwen sat, Merry’s expression changed from gloomy to wide-eyed and Gamling saw him swallow hard. The men returned to their talking and joking but Gamling watched Morwen work her magic. She approached the halfling differently than she treated soldiers, Gamling noticed. Gone was the low-voiced and confident woman of experience and in her place was a Morwen much like she must have been as a girl. She seemed younger in her conversation with the little hobbit, more animated and companionable. To Merry’s delight she ordered a pint and drank it with him, her left foot swinging whimsically between them. Gamling grinned, watching Merry’s mood improve more quickly than he’d expected. The little lad was intrigued. Éothain would never see this coming. Eventually the Morwen Gamling was used to appeared, laying her hand gently on Merry’s arm, casting her eyes downward with obvious intent and teasing her lower lip with her tongue. She used every womanly trick she knew and poor Merry couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to. Gamling laughed when the hobbit picked up his pint and downed it all in one long draught. Then, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Merry hopped down from his stool and bowed gracefully to Morwen, offering his hand as he stood. The men at the table looked up, falling silent with wide eyes as the tall dark haired woman led the hobbit upstairs toward her room. They passed Éomer and a stunned-looking blonde on the way and Merry nodded politely, then strutted through Morwen’s door like a barnyard cock and shut it with a thump. For a moment silence rang through the room as people exchanged glances all around. Then someone choked off a laugh and a few giggles rose out of the women, except for Éomer’s companion who took her leave of the heir and went to the bar for a drink of water. Éomer sat down, grinning roguishly, and asked for the explanation of what he’d just seen. “Lucky little hobbit,” Éomer said, calling for a pint when Éothain had finished his story. Éomer exchanged a grin with Gamling, knowing the older man had something to do with the choice of Merry’s companion. Conversation continued and the noise level gradually rose, but not to its usual roar. People found themselves listening for sounds from upstairs, and those closest to Morwen’s room thought they heard an occasional giggle and once or twice a thumping sound. Half an hour passed in this way, then stretched to an hour. Gamling waited patiently, knowing better than many what could happen with that particular lady when she was in a giving mood. “You look proud of yourself, Gamling,” Éomer said, coming to Gamling’s end of the table. “You were instrumental in this particular pairing?” “Something of that nature, my lord.” Éomer clapped him on the back and called for more ale. “You are indeed kind.” The men exchanged a knowing look and chuckled softly. “It’s not even his birthday,” Gamling teased the younger man, who grinned. “He’ll just have to come back for a visit.” Finally after another forty-five minutes passed, a door latch clicked and for a moment the tavern paused, looking toward the stairs while trying not to be noticed. Merry trotted cheerfully down the steps, greeting Éomer and company with a smile. Then, he returned to his seat at the bar and asked for a pint, his feet kicking back and forth on either side of the stool. A few moments later Morwen appeared, as calm and put together as always, and joined Merry at the bar briefly. Gamling tried to smile at Éomer but the young Marshal was occupied with a tall, deliciously curved brunette whom he coaxed into his lap by the hips. When the heir palmed the back of the girl’s head and drew her ear to his mouth, whispering, Gamling smiled at her shiver and gentle laugh. He and Háma had taught the boy well. Eventually Morwen joined their table, leaning against Gamling’s chair back and passing her long fingered hands up and down his neck. He shifted position, offering her a knee and she sat down, threading a pale white arm around his shoulders. He slid an arm around her waist, teasing circles on the sensitive part of her hip that he knew drove her to distraction, his smile registering only in his eyes. “So?” Éothain asked. “Did all go well?” Éomer dropped an eyebrow at his friend in distaste and the girl in his lap narrowed her maple syrup eyes at his rudeness as well. He should at least let the woman breathe for a moment. Morwen merely smiled and gestured to the bar where Merry sat quite contentedly, a girl on each side and a wide smile on his face. Éothain stared for an inordinately long time before he spoke again, watching Merry escort an excited little redhead up the stairs to another room, this one further down the hall. Éothain’s mouth fell open. “Well Béma’s balls.” Gamling shifted his hand further down Morwen’s leg, circling her knee now and enjoying the massage she gave his tired neck. Perhaps they would start with that he thought, staring down the front of her shift. “He did that too,” she murmured catching his gaze. “I told you he’d like Lilly.” “I didn’t doubt he would, but I hope he knows he’s paying for it.” “Oh, he’s not.” Gamling looked up at her, surprised. “Excuse me?” “Well, we’ve all been wondering, having never seen his folk before. Besides, I gave him the money,” she finished stealing a drink from Gamling’s tankard. “You gave him the money?” Gamling asked more loudly than he’d intended. Beside him Éomer pried his mouth away from the brunette’s neck long enough to gape and grin. “Wait, Morwen, you paid him?” She merely smiled in answer, looking down the table at Éothain’s obvious shock. His shock, however, turned to horror when the sound of quickly padding feet sounded on the steps and Lilly descended, her hair loose around her shoulders and bodice half unlaced. She trotted to the bar where a dejected little blonde sat looking around the room and whispered in her ear. The blonde looked confused for a moment, then grinned and followed Lilly up the stairs with as much speed as she could muster while simultaneously untying her bodice strings. Éothain was rendered speechless but finally managed to mutter, “I didn’t think he could do it.” “Did that make him look good enough?” Morwen asked in Gamling’s ear. “I’d say so. Did you really give him the money?” “Not all of it,” she purred. “The tip I kept. Now, about that chat we were supposed to have?” Gamling grinned and helped her stand, following her up the familiar staircase to her room. Éomer and the brunette followed them up the stairs and into the dark hallway where two sets of feminine giggles echoed faintly off the woodwork. Passing Lilly’s doorway, Éomer’s companion stopped and quirked a curious eyebrow at Morwen. “Don’t even think about it,” Éomer growled playfully pulling the girl against his chest and backing her into her room. Morwen and Gamling laughed as the door banged shut, and entered her room, undressing each other as they went. Left to his own devices downstairs, Éothain cast his eyes about the room but found no friendly face to warm his pillow and, pouting, threw coin on the table and left, the racket of the tavern swelling behind him. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sun Nov 15, 2026 2:33 am