(This has been in the works for soooo long and it's finally done woohoo!)

Type: one shot

Pairing: Female (clocksmith) reader x Eomer

Hope you like!

Maerwyn made clocks for a living.

Not just ordinary clocks, though, the most intricate, beautiful clocks in the realm, of all shapes and sizes. Tall, short; fat, skinny; round, hexagonal; simple, fancy; and everything in between- Maerwyn crafted them all. She spent each day from the moment the sun rose 'till the minute it set in her workshop, in the very back of the rustic store. She would sit at her desk - or sometimes stand, depending on the project - and meticulously piece together screws, cogs, wheels, and other mechanical gizmos, her concentration never faltering.

The young clocksmith had inherited the business from her late father, having grown up surrounded by the ticking mechanics all her life. The pair had existed in a secluded state, tucked away from the rest of the townsfolk; Maerwyn had never made any friends as a child, or even now. In recent years, she'd grown into quite the lovely young lady; though few took notice of her looks, as most that came through the shop preferred to admire her craftsmanship. And Maerwyn liked it that way. She would choose the company of her clocks than of a living being most any day. Not to mention her workshop had a porch she could work on in warm weather. Sunshine, clocks, and peace- what more could she want?

Rohan had a rather small central city, built around the modest mansion of the royal family, so most everyone knew each other. Although Maerwyn never made the effort to advertise her business, travelers from all walks of life would, more often than not, want to visit her shop at the urging of the locals. Maerwyn held a stern principle for herself: always satisfy the customer; she made certain to always offer a custom build if a particularly finicky shopper stopped by. In the past nine years of Maerwyn solo-running the business, she had a proud status of a customer having never, not once, left without making a purchase or order.

Rumors in the kingdom, especially the center city, always reached the ears of the royal family sooner than later. Eowyn, the king's niece, was particularly fond of hearing pleasant news from her uncle's subjects. It was by her that, Eomer, her brother, heard of the great clocksmith residing at the edge of the city. Eowyn was a very busy princess, however, and it took her nearly two years after first hearing of Maerwyn to visit the shop, dragging along Eomer as well. At first, the young prince was incredibly uninterested. What a waste of time it would be to shop for something as trivial as a clock all afternoon, he believed.

This was during a happier time, before Sauroman and Sauron's reach extended to corrupt the king of Rohan- yet also at a point when Eomer's life when all he was interested in was combat training, flirting with each lovely lady that crossed his path, and learning to govern a kingdom should he need to one day. His life was full of fun and adventure, and so this minute expedition seemed so silly to him. Just the thought of watching an excited Eowyn flit about a clock shop for an entire afternoon was enough to make the prince yawn aloud.

As a good-natured stable boy led the two young royals (all on horseback) down the rough streets to their destination, however, Eomer's boredom began to fade. The lad guiding them chirped on cheerily about the magnificence of Maerwyn's creations, and of the mysterious clocksmith who crafted them. His curiosity soon sparked, Eomer found himself unexpectedly intrigued by the simplicity of the storefront once they arrived. As they dismounted and Eowyn gave the stable boy a generous pouch of coins in thanks, Eomer studied the brass, tin, silver, steel, and copper machinery he could see inside the open back of a clock in the narrow window. Even from outside, he could tell how well-made each ticking marvel was.

Eomer politely held the door open for his sister before following her inside, echoing her gasp of awe. The small shop was completely filled with clocks. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held smaller models while larger, grandfather-styles stood alone. Even most of the purchase counter was covered with the beautiful creations. The endless ticking of the clocks around the royal siblings seemed almost comforting rather than disconcerting as one might expect, and the prince wondered if this was because of Maerwyn's love for her craft. By now, Eomer was itching to meet the secretive clocksmith he knew unfortunately so little about. 

A bell rang softly from the door of the store as it slowly shut and a lilting voice called from the back room, behind the counter, "I'll be there in just a moment!" Eowyn turned away from her brother to admire a large, dark oak clock detailed with gold and bronze trim, but Eomer closely watched the back door. Any moment, the figure belonging to that soft, serene voice would reveal herself- but when she did, brushing ebony-black bangs away from honey-brown eyes, she was not at all what he'd expected. For one, the stable lad had neglected to mention how gorgeous Maerwyn was. Eomer couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her lovely face. 

She had her short, curly hair up in a loose bun and magnifying glasses perched atop her head, that of which gave the prince a glimpse into how silky and soft it appeared up close. Her eyes were bright and narrow, crinkled up a little in her warm smile. A smattering of freckles dotted her peachy-toned cheeks and nose that gave the impression of a nymph or dryad that spent her days out in the sun, She wore a plain blouse with a short vest and shin-length trousers; her feet (which were quite petite) brought her forward, tucked into a pair of moccasin slipper boots.

Maerwyn quickly bowed to both royals, greeting them as expected very politely, and as she bowed, Eowyn subtly shot her brother an odd look. Eomer blinked a few times and composed himself. Had he been staring? Did this stunning mystery damsel find him unusual, or worse, frightening? The fleeting fears left his mind as soon as she smiled at him, asking how she could be of service. Eowyn, noticing Eomer's sudden shift in attitude, stepped forward and asked the lovely clocksmith about one of her creations on a shelf across the store. The moment she was far away enough, Eowyn swatted her brother's arm, muttering with a teasing smile, "Wake up!" 

The shopping trip seemed over all too soon to Eomer. Despite the fact he hadn't spoken a word to her other than a hello the whole afternoon, he didn't want to leave. Luckily, Eowyn then placed an order for a custom grandfather clock that would require many follow-up visits for Maerwyn to craft it just the way the princess desired. Eomer stole one last glance at the lovely maiden who'd left him so strangely stunned as he walked out the door- and caught her staring at him. An odd development, for certain, but not an unwelcome one- in fact, Eomer felt his heart give a little twirl as her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of rose and she waved goodbye. Maerwyn quickly retreated to her workshop, her thoughts whirling just as (though unbeknownst to her) Eomer's were.

A week passed and Eomer just couldn't get Maerwyn out of his head. He longed for her, dreamed of her, even wrote her a letter confessing his newfound, intense admiration - a letter that he promptly burned after realizing how foolish he was acting. He'd never spoken a word to her and they'd only met once! How could he fall so quickly for a stranger, albeit a enchantingly beautiful one? And as he silently wondered and worried, Eowyn noticed and concocted a plan. It was about time her brother found real love. That said, a part of her also wanted to have some fun playing matchmaker.

The princess approached her brother the morning of her first planned appointment with Maerwyn and told him she couldn't make it. "I feel ill," she lied, holding her hand to her forehead. "Would you go in my stead?" She felt that this was an opportunity Eomer would jump at - and he did. An hour later, dressed to impress and standing at the door to the clock shop, he started to regret his decision. What is he was dressed too nice? What is he said the wrong thing? Should he have brought flowers? Oh, he really should have brought flowers- But then the door opened before the nervous prince could steel his nerves, and here before him stood a smiling Maerwyn. "You pull on the handle to open the door," she teased and Eomer felt his cheeks flush.

As he stumbled to reply, make up an excuse for standing there so long, Maerwyn beckoned him inside, giving a quick bow. "I meant no insolence, of course, my lord- I simply found your hesitation amusing." Eomer watched her turn away, heading toward the back room, and he finally managed to untangle his tongue enough to respond rather loftily, "I was- lost in my thoughts about- about important, uh, royal duties." Maerwyn nodded, glancing back at him with a smirk that made his heart skip a beat. "I'm sure you were, my lord." Again, she was teasing him- whatever could it mean? Eomer was baffled. Here they were, strangers still, and she was jesting at him as if they were old friends.

A small frown appeared on the prince's face as he followed Maerwyn into her workshop, very puzzled. She was a commoner, a clocksmith, one who was claimed to prize her creations over fellow people, yet she spoke with the eloquence and wit of a royal. It was intriguing to Eomer, endearing, even. He felt a sudden pull to her, a connection, that made him even more curious to learn whatever this lovely, mysterious clocksmith had to teach him about life. He followed her to the far wall of the small workshop where Eowyn's clock leaned against the wall. Though still in its rough stages of creation, Eomer was still blown away at how magnificent it already appeared.

The besmitten prince somehow managed to deliver all the descriptions Eowyn had sent him to give without stuttering once. Maerwyn jotted down notes as he spoke, but the process only took a few minutes or so, and quickly an awkward silence fell between them. Eomer was trying to muster up the courage to compliment her beauty, but before he could, she stood and left him in the workshop for a long, quiet minute. She returned carrying two mugs of an excellent brew of mead, one for each of them, and they sat on the porch of the workshop. The uncomfortable silence turned into a companionable sort of quiet, and they watched the grass sway in the breeze, seated side by side.

Eomer down half of his mug quickly, searching for any sudden bravery of speech the alcohol might give him, but again, she made a move first. "Would you mind if I simply called you 'Eomer', my lord?" she asked, tilting her head at him that caused a few dark, silky locks to fall in front of her eyes. Before he lost the nerve, the prince reached out and brushed the hair behind her ear, replying, "I would not mind at all," in what he hoped was a flirtatious tone. It must have worked, for Maerwyn blushed and smiled before looking back at the fields beyond the porch. She took a swig of mead before remarking quietly, smiling out at the horizon, "Isn't it nice to have a friend?"

A month passed and Eowyn continuously eluded her appointments at the clock shop, sending Eomer again and again instead. Of course, neither he nor Maerwyn minded, in fact, they somewhat suspected she was plotting something. The prince soon grew a bit more bold, choosing to spend his free time visiting Maerwyn almost every afternoon, not only when Eowyn's clock-in-progress needed to be checked over. As the clocksmith had said, it was certainly nice to have a friend in each other, and as the days passed and the summer went on, both began to feel something more in the air between them.

Maerwyn, though you never would have expected it whether or not you knew her personally, had dreamed of meeting a prince and falling in love with him as a child. Those daydreams were long forgotten until the day Eomer first came to her shop. She'd been expecting Eowyn (possibly with a knightly escort), as the princess had sent a messenger ahead announcing her visit, but Maerwyn had not been prepared to come face to face with the princess' brother as well. He was just as handsome, if not more, as most of her gossipy female customers claimed, and she'd been quite embarrassed when he'd caught her staring at him as he left that afternoon.

The second time he came, Maerwyn was ready to be more bold, open up a few doors between them, and she felt a tidal wave of relief sweep over her at her success. That late morning, sitting on the porch beside her new friend, he'd made her feel something when he brushed her hair back and looked at her so adoringly. The feeling had only grown over the past month from a quiet spark in her heart to a bonfire she was now struggling to control. Though she clearly recognized the strong flame as love, she hesitated- could he ever love a commoner like her?

Eomer, on the other hand, knew he'd fallen hard the moment he first saw her. As improbable as it sounded, even to him, it was entirely true, and he felt that love growing every day, even when they were apart. He treasured every moment, big or small, that made him believe he was slowly winning her love in return. One warm morning, similar to the one when she'd first declared them friends, they sat on the porch with mugs of mead again. Eomer gazed at her lovely face, smiling softly, for a long moment. As he'd expected, she tilted her head, as she always did when confused, and asked, "What is it? Do I have an oil spot on my face?" He shook his head and took a sip of mead, looking back at the horizon. 

After a suspenseful minute, Eomer replied quietly, "No, you are just so beautiful. Though I apologize, I find it difficult not to stare." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her fail to hide a blush and a smile. Maerwyn's left hand steadied her as she sat, relaxed, beside him. Her gaze rested on the clouds, a thoughtful look on her face. Eomer carefully moved his hand to gently cover hers. She did not flinch, nor move or speak, and her only reaction was a smile flickering onto her face, her eyes still fixed on the clouded sky. A flock of sparrows swept overhead as she finally looked at him with a sweet smile. He was certain, now, that she returned his affections, but still, he hesitated. He wanted the time to be right when he confessed his love to her. 

Nearly two months had passed now since the prince and the clocksmith's first meeting. The clock was finally finished and delivered to a very pleased Eowyn, rendering further 'appointments' unnecessary, but Eomer still came to see Maerwyn. Eowyn, immediately after witnessing her brother help to deliver the heavy grandfather clock and seeing the obvious chemistry between the two, set up a lively bet amidst everyone she encountered around the palace on when the pair would announce their courting. To everyone's surprise (except for Eowyn and Théodred), even the king of Rohan himself placed a bet.

Meanwhile, the pair who loved each other but didn't dare tell of their affections were each getting antsy. Eomer was still waiting for that 'perfect time', whereas Maerwyn was starting to believe she had no chance with him as time went on. One afternoon, he was watching her piece together the inner framework of a new custom order when he had a sudden idea and boost of courage. As he handed her a practically minuscule screwdriver, he spoke up suddenly, one final testing question before the moment was right, "Maerwyn, I've been meaning to ask you something." The clocksmith held her breath, pausing her work as her heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Was he about to ask to court her?

"Why do you like clocks so much?" Maerwyn let out a quiet sigh, disappointed, and resumed tinkering with the gears of the small creation of such as she replied honestly, "I grew up with clocks. My father and I bonded through the mechanics of building them, and I cherish those memories. Each individual piece of has a specific place to fit. A puzzle of very small, delicate pieces mixed with large, sometimes clunky parts. Crafting a clock might seem difficult to you, or to any other fellow or lady who has never tried it. But to me, clocks are very simple. Humans, on the other hand, are strange, ever-changing beings that can often be incredibly dense!" She turned the tiny screwdriver too quickly and the cog it was turning broke in half. Maerwyn gave a frustrated sigh and abruptly stood. This was no use, she couldn't work while hiding her feelings.

Pushing her magnifying glasses onto the top of her head, she turned and strode onto the porch, the door creaking as she pushed it open. The evening was hot and dry, and she could hear crickets beginning to chirp as the sun brushed the horizon. Maerwyn hadn't noticed just how late it was until now, as she stood at the edge of the porch, leaning to her side against a sturdy beam that balanced the roof. The door behind her swung open and shut again as Eomer followed, a little troubled by her sudden outburst, but also hopeful. "Are you alright? If I said something wrong, I really do apologize." Not meeting his gaze as he stepped up beside her, Maerwyn muttered, half to herself, "It is what you did not say that was upsetting..."

To her utmost surprise, he began to chuckle. She felt his hand gently take her arm and, bewildered, let him lead her off the porch and onto the green field, her moccasins causing blades of grass to bend wherever she stepped. He stopped her a few meters away from the porch stairs and dropped his hand. Maerwyn felt a sudden chill where the warmth of his hand had been and gave an instinctive shudder. "Do you trust me?" asked Eomer, standing behind her. She could sense he was nervous, but she was certain she felt much more so. Maerwyn nodded, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered, "Close your eyes." She did so and heard him step away, the grass beneath their feet swishing with each step he took. 

She waited as he walked around to her front and resisted the urge to open her eyes. She trusted him. His arms wrapped around her, one resting on the small of her back and the other on the back of her head, weaving his fingers into her silky, ebony-black hair. She could feel his chest press up against hers as he pulled her closer. When she felt his lips touch her, hesitant, asking for permission, her heart leaped and she leaned in. The kiss was tender, sweet, cautious. Both wished it would last forever- but alas, they had to break apart all too soon for need of air.

Eomer rested his forehead against Maerwyn's, smiling adoringly at her as she looked bashfully at him. "Must I speak when instead I can show you how I feel with a kiss?" he asked, a rhetorical question, of course, and he then moved to give her another kiss. "Wait-" Maerwyn tilted her head away and Eomer frowned, taking a step back. "I- I apologize-" "No, no, don't be sorry. Oh, please don't be sorry," she pleaded and he smiled slightly again. "Then what is the matter?" "I wanted to tell you something-" Before she could finish, Eomer swooped in for another, quicker kiss, but Maerwyn dodged him and huffed indignantly. "You didn't let me finish!" The prince tilted his head, showing a dazed, crooked smile as he murmured teasingly, "If you must, go on."

"I love you."

Eomer leaned in with an adoring smile.

"I love you too."

Then Maerwyn finally let him steal another kiss.