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Written as a birthday double drabble for Meril who wanted something with Eomer and Theódred.
“You will not succeed.”
Éomer squared his shoulders. He stopped and stared his cousin in the eye. “I will.” He turned away, but not before he saw Theódred shrug and shake his head.
Éomer easily climbed over the three rail fence before him. "You worry too much." He crossed the large paddock, halter in hand.
“I care not if you break your fool neck, only that it will be I who has to tell father of it.” Theódred rested his arms on the middle rail and looked over the fence. “You must first catch him.”
Éomer ignored him. He slowly approached the spirited gray stallion and, after a brief, silent stand off, haltered him. He smiled triumphantly. With the ease of one born to horses, he grabbed a handful of mane and vaulted to the animal’s back.
Powerful muscles bunched beneath him and Éomer turned his overconfident gaze to Theódred. He squeezed his legs firmly into the horse’s sides. “You were…”
He found himself lying on the ground, admiring the blue sky above him, and at a loss as to how he got there.
A shadow crossed his sight, followed by the smiling face of Theódred. "I told you so."
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