Knotted
by Dana

Disclaimer: Characters created by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Pairings: Gríma/Éowyn, Éomer/Éowyn
Rating: PG
Warnings: Incest.
Notes: written for Tigatog100.
Summary: All knotted together, whether it's wanted or not.

A set of three drabbles.

She might be a lady, but she has never had a gift for a lady's work. Too wild, too free – a fierce spirit, trapped not in a cage of steel, but a fine prison of gold and silk. Calluses not from the sword, instead the soft woman's work of needle and thread.

Her half-finished work lies forgotten where she threw it down on the ground. Forgotten, perhaps by her, but he has waited, and now he claims it, picks it up. The work is almost fine, the threadwork is knotted at the edges.

He shouldn't be alone in the light.

It is angry mutterings that draws Éomer forth. "Have you a problem, sister?" he asks, words filled with enough mirth that Éowyn's bright eyes narrow in disgust.

"I do not see what joy our mother ever found in needlework," and that is all the explanation that she gives.

"She had a hand for it," he says, then, taking hers he folds them between his own. He holds her hands close, leans in closer, watches, waits. No fear in her eyes.

"I left enough blood in that rag that we could call it kin."

Éomer laughs. Éowyn flashes a hard grin.

Éomer laughs – and Éowyn knows that they are watched, but she doesn't think that she cares. Not when it is Gríma, when she can feel his want pulsing in the air, and she grins a sly grin as Éomer turns her hands, kisses her knuckles, turns them again.

"Let me make it better, then," Éomer murmurs, softly sighs, and he breathes against her fingertips, warm lips kissing cool blood from hot skin. She tilts her head, the darkness stirs, her eyes closing as Éomer breathes.

The shadow retreats; a blood-spotted square of knotted yellow cloth falls to the ground, unseen.