Chapter 3: A Game of Chess

Gríma Wormtongue watched his foe’s silhouette disappear in the diffuse winter light, and his hands unconsciously balled into fists inside the pockets of his heavy cape. He had succeeded so far, his most dangerous adversary was gone. He felt satisfied, butat the same time the son of Gálmód knew that it was too early to relax. For as long as the king’s nephew was alive, he remained a threat, and having him expelled had only been the first step toward ridding himself permanently of the troublesome son of Éomund. The counsellor held no illusions that Éomer would not even attempt to leave the Mark in the five day’s limit he had been given. Doubtlessly he would instead hide in one of the many hideouts he knew from his forays into the wild, and from there, plot his return. There was no telling what the wilful young man was apt to do if permitted to roam the Mark. He was much loved by the people and – even more important – well respected among the armed forces, especially by the two most valiant captains of the West- and Eastfold,and for as long as he lived, the threat of a revolution would continue to exist.

Gríma felt amazed that he had actually succeeded in driving that final spike between the king and his nephew, but he knew better than to believe in his victory yet. The people here had not objected to their Third Marshal’s banishment because they were afraid of punishment, not because they believed the accusations to be true; Gríma held no pretence in this particular question. His position would only be secure once the former Third Marshal was dead, and he was determined to make this requirement reality before even the weakest spark of mutiny could rise among the Rohirrim. Éomer was one skilled at rousing the people, so he needed to be silenced once and for all. As always, Gálmod’s son already knew what he had to do.

Shifting his attention from the plains below, Wormtongue suddenly beheld the pale shape of the king’s niece on the other side of the terrace. Staring in the direction of the White Mountains although her brother could no longer be seen, the White Lady of Rohan ignored his presence, but the rigidity of her posture told Gríma that she had seen him.

Motioning for one of the guards near him, Gríma turned his back on the view and said in a loud enough voice for Éowyn to hear:

“Dorlâk, when the lady has had enough fresh air, you will guide her back inside to her chambers. Under no circumstance is she allowed to leave Meduseld. Do you understand me?” From the corners of his eyes, he saw the object of their conversation pivot, and her expression was that of someone who did not believe her ears.

“You do not possess the authority to lock me in, Counsellor! I am still a member of the royal family, and I will not accept orders from either you or your men, unless I hear my uncle voice them himself!”

“These were your uncle’s words, actually. He is resting now, but if you insist, we can go and disturb him,” Gríma gave back in a silken voice,his features neutral. Heindicated a little bow. “I suggested to the King that you should be kept inside the hall for those five days until your brother has left the Mark, for no other reason than your own protection. Théoden-King is well aware that you will of course feel inclined to help your brother in his predicament even if this action would make you a traitor under the law yourself.” He shook his head in pretence of sympathy. “I would hate having to throw you into the dungeon, too, my lady. As I am certain you would. It no place for a woman of noble blood, but you would leave us no choice if you chose to betray your King.” He indicated another bow and extended his arm to gesture Éowyn in the direction of the portal. “Please, Lady Èowyn, be wise. Accept my apologies for this inconvenience, but surely five days spent in Meduseld in the comfort of your own chambers will be more pleasant than sitting in the darkness of a cell underneath the hill or following your brother into this winter storm.” He squinted as a gust of wind blew snow into his face, and only barely managed to keep the smirk which wanted to accompany his words from his lips. Of course there had been no way for him to plan this, but seeing how the banishment of his adversary fell together with this winter’s first severe snow-storm was a well of intense satisfaction.

Éowyn’s eyes threw daggers at him, and from her balled fists and widened nostrils Gríma could easily conclude how enraged she was. He threw a quick glance at the nearby guards. With the hot-headed children of Éomund, there was no telling whether the fair maiden would think twice before she would assault him to scratch out his eyes.

When she spoke, her voice was even colder than their surroundings.

“And if I tell you to take your good advice and choke on it, and then go down to the marketplace for a few belongings I need despite your order, what will you do then, dear Counsellor? Convict me?”

He regarded her gravely, his expression telling her that he meant what he said.

“I’m afraid I’d have to, my lady. But I honestly hope that you’ll be wiser than to force me to this measure.”

The moment stretched between them with the nearby guards uncomfortably shuffling their feet, and at first, Gríma was certain that Éowyn would put him to the test… but then with a huff, the fair maiden turned on her heels and with great, unladylike strides and haughtily lifted chin, retreated into the Golden Hall. Following her path with his eyes until the doors closed behind her, Gríma then turned back to the guard he had been instructing.

“I want a guard positioned in front of her chambers at all times. She is not to leave them without my permission. Instruct your men accordingly.”

“Aye, Counsellor, it will be done. But what if…” The red-haired man interrupted himself, not daring to look his superior in the eye.

“What if what?”

“What shall I say if Lord Gamling or Lord Háma inquire about this? I am not in the position to—“

“If these two noble gentlemen want to know more about this special order, you send them to me. I am sure they will understand. After all, it is only in the lady’s best interest. And, Dorlâk? I need you to accomplish two more things for me, both with a certain urgency to them: first, you will go down to the gates, or send someone, if you like, and summon Captain Éothain. I expect him in the throne room an hour from now. Afterwards, you gather all serving personnel of Meduseld in the servants’ common room. I need to address and instruct them about a change of procedure that will take effect in these halls from now on. One traitor was more than enough, and we must take any precautions possible to prevent that there are followers.” Clenching his fingers in the fur collar of his cape, Gríma began to descend the stairs leading to the path into the city. “I will be back shortly.”

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Standing at the window overlooking the western plains with unfocussed gaze, Éowyn bit her lip, and her fingernails unconsciously dug into the wood of the sill in silent frustration. It was hard to believe what was going on in Meduseld these days, and the impertinence with which the worm had dared to send her to her room like a disobedient child robbed her of her breath and left her with the distinct wish to unsheathe her sword and take that black-robed snake to it. Perhaps Éomer had been right, perhaps she should have accompanied him. If Gríma could even lock her into her chambers without the other men objecting, what else would they permit? What if he locked himself in here with her? What if…

It took her great effort to shove the ugly thought away. No matter what happened, she would sooner die than allow letting herself be used in this way. She still possessed the hidden dagger she had carried for years, ever since she had first become aware of the counsellor’s intentions, and if that scarecrow made the mistake to think that he could have her now, he would taste it, no matter what threat he’d utter against her or her family.

Éomer… Again her lips tightened to a bloodless line as she stared at the swirling white world beyond her window. Somewhere out there, alone, without the protection of his éored and unarmed, was her brother. He depended on her. There was something she had promised him, and although her initial attempt had been intercepted, Éowyn was determined to keep it. Reprimanding herself for letting herself be distracted, Éowyn turned away from the window and crossed the room with energetic strides. Swallowing her indignity, she knocked against the door, and heard the key turn inside the lock. A moment later, the guard who had been detailed to stand watch in front of her chambers looked at her. He had to be one of Gríma’s men, she concluded, because she could detect no trace of discomfort in his expression. Most of the men she had known among the lines of the Royal Guard for most her life would not have dared to look her in the eye after making her suffer this indignity, but that orkish-looking brute in front of her seemed to have no problem with it. Although he stood one head taller than she, Éowyn felt far from intimidated as she defiantly lifted her chin.

“Guard? Send for my handmaiden. I wish to see her.”

“I am not permitted to leave this door, my lady,” the man grumbled, his tone indicating that he was having trouble with the unfamiliar elegant wording. “I’m afraid you will have to wait until-“ Her furious look silenced him.

“You bid me to wait? Who are you that you think you can talk to me, a member of the Royal Family, like that? You have not even a name worthy of remembering, and you dare to deny my request? I know there has been much going wrong in these halls since that worm seized command, but trust me that the king will hear about it if you will not get me Maelwyn this instant! Maelwyn!”

The young, woman in the plain servant’s dress, who had been on her way to the kitchens, hastened her steps at the call of her mistress and looked questioningly at Éowyn and the guard. The tension between them was thick, and not knowing the reason for it, the maiden from Aldburg lowered her head as she asked: “What can I do for you, my lady?”

Her eyes still shooting daggers at the guard as if she dared him to object, Éowyn pressed: “I will discuss this with you inside my chambers. I see no need to discuss my private needs in public, nor did I hear my king forbid me to have visitors!”

“I am not certain whether-“ the man began, but Éowyn interrupted him.

“Leave the thinking to those of greater wits and simply do what you have been told to do: guard this door, and leave me alone, guard! I do not wish to be disturbed! The presence of you and your kind gives me a headache!” She nodded at her servant and followed her back inside her chambers, throwing the door with all her weight behind it. If they insisted to keep her like a caged animal, she would make certain that they had miserable time doing it!

Realising her public explosion of temperament had made her the object of her trusted handmaiden’s scrutiny, Éowyn took a deep breath. She needed to calm down, or she would forget something vital and Éomer would have to pay for it.

“My lady? Is aught wrong? How can I be of assistance?” Maelwyn was only two year younger than she, but right now she sounded like a frightened child. Four years in the service of the Royal Family had not yet prepared the quiet but reliable woman from the Eastmark for such a flare of her lady’s temper. It was unlike Éowyn to shout or throw doors, or to throw a tantrum of any kind. Her brother, yes. Èomer was known for his heated temper, but also for his sense of justice. Whoever he shouted at usually deserved it. It had always been easy to determine how the Third Marshal thought about something or someone, whereas Éowyn had remained an enigma to most members of this household up to this very day. While many incidents hinted at the fact that the White Lady was possessed of the same strong will and stubbornness as her brother, she usually remained in the background, observing and keeping her thoughts to herself. Yet while Maelwyn still regarded her with uncertainty, Éowyn’s angered expression slowly melted into one of exhaustion, worry and regret as she gestured toward the chairs.

“I am sorry, Maelwyn. It was not right of me to make you a witness of this quarrel. But it is hard these days to remain calm while our honourable counsellor gets away with deeds that would have formerly been unthinkable.” She made her way over to the sitting group and lowered herself into one of the chairs.

Still uncertain of her mistresses’ demeanour, the younger woman smiled shyly.

“You need not apologise, my lady. I understand that these past days have been very hard on you. They have been hard on us all.” Looking into her mistresses’ sad eyes, Maelwyn spontaneously added: “Your brother is a mighty warrior, Lady Éowyn. He will not be helpless out there.” Spontaneously, she extended a hand in comfort, and Éowyn was glad to accept it even though the other woman’s compassionate words caused her sense of despair to resurface; her eyes once again starting to burn. Angry at herself, she wiped them with her free hand.

“I know, Maelwyn. But I fear that Gríma is not done with Éomer yet. They hate each other, and he knows that Éomer will remain a danger to him for as long as he lives.”

The grey-blue eyes in front of her widened slightly.

“You mean he will attempt to have him killed, my Lady? But that would be against the king’s orders!”

“Gríma cares nothing for the king’s orders, and my uncle is too ill to see how his orders are executed.” Éowyn shook her head, and a great silence followed her words as she gazed unfocused into the distance. Seeing how her mistress seemed to ponder a thing of such great import, Maelwyn dared not interrupt her. Finally, Éowyn’s attention returned to her, and the piercing look she was given caused the young woman’s heart to jump into her throat. “Maelwyn, what I tell you now must remain among us, you must promise me this. Please know that I have always trusted you, but in these days of madness, it seems that even the walls of Meduseld have ears. You must speak to no one about what I will tell you now.”

The handmaiden shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“My Lady, I do not understand-“

“Promise me, Maelwyn, or I cannot tell you. And I need your help!”

It caused the young servant almost bodily pain to hear her mistress beg.

“I will not say a word, Lady Éowyn. You entrusted me many secrets over those years I have been in your service; you know that your secrets are safe with me.”

“Yes, but this is different, Maelwyn. This time, lives depend on it, my brother’s and mine, if word gets out, so even though I want to put my faith in you, I still need to hear it from you again.” Éowyn had never sounded or looked more intense, and the younger woman’s discomfort grew. What had she gotten herself into this time? Lowly, almost in a frightened way, she said:

“I promise, my Lady. I will not speak a word about it.”

“Except to one man.” Taking a deep breath, Éowyn began. This was the point of no return. She hated having to drag the innocent girl into this net of lies and intrigues, but there was no other choice. She had to save Éomer. “Maelwyn, I need you to deliver a message for me to our blacksmith. It is very important that he receives it soon. Will you do that for me?”

“To our blacksmith? Bergfinn?” The handmaiden furrowed her brow in confusion. How could a message to a blacksmith be of any greater import?

“Yes, Bergfinn. I need you to seek him out and tell him to send his eldest son to our old hiding place before darkness today. Élric will know what place I speak of, he accompanied us there many times. Tell him to pack a knife, a bow, and, if he can, a sword, and perhaps some food, too, and deposit them for Éomer. He knows where. And he must make sure that he is not followed! It is of the utmost importance!” Éowyn tensed upon seeing hesitation in the younger woman’s eyes.

“But… helping a convicted man… wouldn’t that be against the king’s orders? Wouldn’t I become a traitor then, too?”

“To betray a traitor is no crime, Maelwyn. It is, in fact, our duty. And the king’s order was to banish Éomer, not to kill him; in fact, it was not even his order. It was his voice speaking those words, yes, but they were not his words; they were given to him.” She shook her head to herself, seeing how the girl got even more confused by her explanation. “I only want to ensure that the king’s orders are obeyed, Maelwyn. It was not his wish that Éomer be killed.”

“But how do you know then that is the counsellor’s intention… if I may ask this? I know it is not my place.”

“I know it, Maelwyn. Trust me, I know it as certain a I know that the sun settles in the west.” Suddenly deciding against telling the girl too much, Éowyn fell silent. The inner urge to share all her worries and frustration with someone she trusted was almost impossible to resist, but she would have be even more careful than ever. She stood alone now in Meduseld, and the Law of the Hall not the one being followed these days. The less Maelwyn knew the better. She drew a deep breath. “Will you help me, Maelwyn? I cannot deny that there may be a certain danger involved in the action, but it should not be too great if we do this smartly.”

The young woman looked miserable, and from the way her hands were clutching each other until her knuckles turned white, it was easy to see her discomfort. Éowyn’s heart sank. Maelwyn had done nothing yet, and already, she looked guilty. Gríma would have to be blind not to notice the look on her face. But if she staged a diversion, perhaps he would not pay attention if her handmaiden slipped out of the Golden Hall.

Maelwyn’s voice was barely audible when she finally answered, not daring to meet her mistresses’ gaze. “I would love to help, Lady Éowyn. I am not blind to what is going on, and I would very much like to see that dark man gone from Edoras, but what if I am caught? I have two small children to take care of. I must think of them first… and of my husband. “

“You will not be caught. I have a plan, Maelwyn. It is impossible that Gríma learns of it if you follow it.” If only she could have been as certain as she sounded.

“I’d rather not, my Lady.” The grey-blue eyes were pleading now. Had Maelwyn sensed her doubts? “The thought frightens me. I am only a servant, not a shield maiden. I am not a person possessed of great courage; I am not one of those people who can make a difference.”

“The people who make a difference are not usually those possessed of greater skill, Maelwyn; they are the ones who decide to make a stand, whether they succeed or not,” Éowyn said embittered. “There are too many among us who believe that it is not in their power to change the course of things, and it is this belief that allows Gríma to do as he pleases. It is comfortable to lean back and let others fight one’s battles, but it opens the door for those who are determined to take fate into their own hands and not to the good of others.” She allowed those words to sink in, coming to her feet and starting to pace as restlessness seized her. “I do not believe in fate. It is I who decides how I live, and no one else. There is no fate but what we make. And if we all decide to do nothing, Éomer will die, and Rohan will fall to ruin before long,” Éowyn said matter-of-factly, her tone flat. She turned on her heels and stopped. “My brother, Maelwyn, was sent out into the wild with no weapons, and no food, and without the protection of his men. The verdict forbids for the people in the settlements to help him, and a snow storm harrows the plains. He needs not even to run into orcs to perish under these conditions. Éomer has given his blood repeatedly for our people, and now those same people he rescued lean back and do nothing. Isn’t that most unfair, Maelwyn?”

This was her last weapon, her last resort, and Éowyn despised herself for using it on this innocent, frightened girl. She had no right to endanger the mother of two young children and wife to a young, hard-working man. But she could not bear the thought of losing Éomer.

Before her, Maelwyn now hid her face in her hands, terrified by the decision that had been laid upon her shoulders. The trembling in her voice indicated that she fought against tears.

“Of course it is, Lady Éowyn, and I wish I could do something to help him! Your brother was always kind to me… he and the Prince. They never treated me like a lowly servant.”

“Well, you are no lowly servant, Maelwyn, you are a member of the Royal Household, dear and trusted. And you are in the position to make a difference now. The danger involved may not even be great, at least not for you. If you are caught – which, I guarantee you, will not happen – you were simply following orders. As my handmaiden, you are not in a position to deny my orders, so the blame would be mine, and the consequences mine alone to face.” Seeing how the younger woman battled with herself, Éowyn fell silent. Maelwyn was her only hope; what she would do if her plea was denied, the daughter of Éomund did not know. There was no one left within these halls she trusted enough to pour out the contents of her heart to. And yet her heart missed a beat when the woman opposite her suddenly looked up. Her eyes looked wide and frightened, and her voice trembled as Maelwyn said:

“Well, then… if you say so, I will wager it, my lady. For you… and your brother. And for Rohan, perhaps. I cannot deny that the thought still frightens me, but I see the wisdom in your words. I come from a great family with eight sisters and brothers. We never had much, but my parents taught us that we could overcome all difficulties if only we stood as one.” She took a long, trembling breath, and then looked Éowyn straight into the eye. “It is time now for Rohan to stand as one, isn’t it? If we all hold together, surely no evil can ever overcome us.” It sounded more like a desperate plea than a statement, and yet the sincerity of it nearly broke Éowyn’s heart as she turned on her heels to embrace her utterly surprised handmaiden.

“No. No, Maelwyn, no evil shall ever triumph over the people of the Riddermark if they stand united. I thank you! I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wish there had been a different way to help Éomer, but I know you can do this. I have a plan, and Gríma will never know about it.”

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“You certainly know why you have been summoned, Captain? There are, of course, certain things that need to be discussed in the light of the recent developments.”

“Yes, Counsellor. I understand.”

With satisfaction, Gríma noticed how the young man kneeling in front of the dais dared not even to raise his eyes at him and resorted instead to silently grinding his teeth. Éothain, the eldest son of Captain Ceorl, was known to be possessed of the same wilful temperament as the king’s nephew, whose best friend he also was, and seeing him dominated was a well of unexpected pleasure almost as intense as the banishment of Éomer himself. Gríma knew how much the rider despised him, and the knowledge made this lesson in power and obedience all the sweeter. Pacing the dais before the orphaned throne with carefully measured steps, the dark counsellor began.

“You are here because the king’s éored needs a new commander after the treason and banishment of its marshal. Naturally you would be next in chain of command, but I will not promote you to that position just yet. I will let you lead your men, but as their captain only, at least for now It is not unknown to me that you were well-acquainted with the Third Marshal, and so you will forgive your king and me when we delay that decision until we can be absolutely certain of your loyalty. As your reputation is that of a bright young man with an understanding for essential strategy, you certainly understand these considerations and feel not insulted by them. It is of course not the king’s wish to insult you.”

“I understand, my lord.”

Oh, this was delightful. Where was Éothain’s haughtiness which he had displayed whenever he had been in Meduseld together with Éomer now? It seemed that the punishment of his friend had turned the grim, muscular warrior before him, who was easily twice his weight, into a scared little mouse. It seemed as if with one well-executed strike, he had ridded himself of the three most notorious troublemakers in the kingdom. How sweet the taste of victory was… and how premature to savour it just now! Pushing all thoughts of self-congratulation away to where they would not affect his concentration, Gríma’s attention shifted back to the task at hand. So far, he had won a few battles, but not the war yet, even if there could be no denying that his master would be very pleased with him when he learned these new developments.

“You will of course further understand that in the light of the same events, your king needs reassurance of your loyalty. Friendship is a valuable thing, and not easily cast aside. Yet if our friends err, or even tread on grounds that will not only endanger their own lives, but those of their friends and kin despite our repeated warnings – it is our duty to make our choice. So let us hear your decision, brave son of Ceorl: Where does your loyalty lie: with your Lord and Land… or with an old friend who has entered those ill-conceived paths?”

Éothain’s chin trembled under the almost unbearable strain, and Gríma tensed despite his delight, establishing with a brief glance at his guards that they were ready in case that the hot-headed warrior’s restraint should break. Yet Éothain did not jump at him, but when he spoke, his words were so low, they were almost inaudible.

“My loyalty belongs with the Mark and its people, Counsellor.”

“And that is well, but what of your king, Captain?” Gríma pressed further, rejoicing in seeing the temperamental young man squirm under his inquisition. “It goes without saying that we all strive to protect our land, but whose path do you believe to be the right one? Your King’s… or the former Third Marshal’s?” It was unmistakable that it caused Éothain almost bodily pain to speak, in the way he avoided his gaze and chose to speak to the tiles on the floor instead.

“My loyalty lies with my King, Counsellor. Whatever commands he will give, I will see them done. My Lord can trust in me.” Overwhelmed by his emotions of his betrayal against Éomer, Éothain closed his eyes.

Satisfied, Wormtongue clasped his hands and cast the young captain a benevolent smile.

“Théoden-King will indeed be glad to hear this, son of Ceorl. Yet as the Eorlingas have always been inadequate tellers of falsehoods, you will forgive me if I do not fully believe you yet. I am, however, willing to let you back your statement with actions. Until further notice though, your host will remain at Edoras for the protection of the city, and all matters needing a decision will be brought before this court by you personally. Until the king decides to further set his trust in you, you will do his bidding unquestioned. I realise that this measure of course takes away from your position for the time being, but if you satisfy your ruler, it will only be a temporary inconvenience.” He looked up as the sound of hasty steps echoed approached. “Yes, Déordred?”

The guard came to a halt. He seemed out of breath and quite shaken, a sight that caused a sudden shiver of uneasiness to race down Gríma’s spine.

“It is the Lady Éowyn, Counsellor! It is serious; I think she must have taken poison!”