Chapter 15: A desperate Attempt

EDORAS

The sun’s tarnished face disappeared behind the Ered Nimrais and plunged the land into twilight as another frustrating day drew to an end; a day of helplessly watching how everything around her fell to pieces. It was the third day Éowyn had been forced to remain in her chambers, and while she appreciated their luxury over the other possibility Gríma had threatened, the very thought of the audacity to keep her imprisoned within their own halls was enough to let the blood churn through her veins.

Standing by the window with her gaze resting on the plains like she had done for long periods within these past days, Éowyn felt that she was fast approaching the point where she would either have to storm out of her chambers and kill whoever dared to block her way, or explode. Fully recovered and the fever but a distant memory, the inactivity to which she had been condemned was quickly becoming torture. How could she sit around doing nothing while Éomer suffered somewhere perhaps close by at the hands of their arch enemy’s minions? How was she supposed to bear this burden with no one to confide in, no one to share the load or to encourage her? Although she kept telling herself that the Worm’s proud statement about having captured her brother was only another one of Gríma’s devious mind games, there was no way to know for sure, and the uncertainty was driving her mad.

And what about their uncle, how was he faring? Since Gríma’s power over their people was closely related to his hold of the King, it was Éowyn’s conviction that the evil counsellor would do everything in his power to keep Théoden alive for as long as possible. And yet, while she suspected that the effort would be vain and the result depressing, she desperately needed to see her surrogate father with her own eyes and attempt to talk with him. Perhaps, if she was lucky and caught him in one of his rare lucid moments, she could alert him of the horrible things going on in the Mark in his name these days.

As she turned toward the door, Éowyn’s expression darkened. There were so many unknowns, so many things over which she had no influence, but she had to keep trying. To do nothing would mean to give up, and she was not yet ready to admit defeat. All day long, she had repeatedly opened the door to keep the changing guards in front of her chambers busy with errands, only waiting for the moment when that man would be someone of the old ranks of the Royal Guard and not one of Wormtongue’s thinly disguised henchmen. So she tensed as she depressed the handle yet again, and this time her heart jumped into her throat as she recognised the man.

"Déor! Béma be blessed, I was hoping to find you here!" A quick glance established that they were alone, but she lowered her voice nonetheless. These days, one could never be too cautious. The elderly guard looked at her warily, obviously unhappy over being pulled into affairs that could cause him trouble.

"Lady Éowyn, what can I do for you? "

"Could you send for Gamling, please? I would very much like to talk to him."

Relieved that her request seemed to be harmless and did not ask for him to engage into any forbidden activities, Déor nodded.

"I will have someone look for him, my lady." He granted her a curt nod. "In the meantime, I would like to say that we are glad to see you recovered. Your illness cast a great shadow upon this house, and seeing your health restored is at least one great worry off people’s minds."

A surprised and touched smile spread over Éowyn’s face.

"I thank you for your concern, Déor. It is a comforting thought that people still care for each other in this house, even if most of them seem too afraid to show it these days. Now, if you can please get Gamling for me? I’d be most grateful." She paused and gazed intently into the darkness on the other side of the hall. "You would not happen to know where the Counsellor is?"

"I understand that he left Meduseld a while ago to go into the city. To my knowledge, he has not returned yet." The discomfort was back in the older man’s eyes as if he suspected that the King’s niece would ask for something he was not allowed to grant, but to his relief, the White Lady only nodded and then closed the door behind her again.

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CENTRAL MARK

With long powerful swipes Elfhelm pulled the straw over Éon’s steaming hide, his body warming with the movement after another long day of exposure to the elements. As much as he usually enjoyed riding and the freedom of the wide open plains in contrast to the city’s haunting feeling of despair, the Captain of Aldburg felt that the long leagues he and his horse had travelled in the past weeks were finally beginning to take their toll on the both of them. The problem was that he would not be done once they reached Edoras tomorrow; he’d still have to get back to Aldburg, and who knew what would await him upon his return. If Éomer had shown up there in the meantime and their call to rebellion spread through the Riddermark, there would be no rest for him in the foreseeable future. And yet he could live with these prospects, because rest meant inactivity, and each hour of inactivity meant orcs roaming the Mark unchallenged, burning their land and killing their people, a thought Elfhelm found altogether intolerable.

He pushed the idea away, not wanting to occupy himself with it any longer while there was still much to be done, more immediate problems to be seen to before he could concern himself with the questions it posed; the most urgent one being the decision of how they would proceed once they reached Edoras. Behind him, rusty hinges creaked as the stable door was opened from outside, and when heavy steps approached him, Elfhelm turned his head to acknowledge Céorl’s presence.

"You look tired," his brother-in-arms said after a scrutinising glance. "I really wish there had been a different way to deal with this than dragging you over the plains again when you had only just returned from battle."

"But as we both know, there isn’t one, and as long as it concerns crossing the Worm’s plans, I will go wherever I’m needed, whenever I’m needed, even if I had to crawl on hands and knees to get there."

With a dry laugh, Céorl stepped up to him, and rested his hands on the stall door.

"I came to tell you that the farmer’s wife fixed us an evening meal in the main house. But perhaps we should first discuss what to do tomorrow, and I would prefer to do that here. It is not that I don’t trust them, but one can never be too careful these days." He extended a hand and clapped Éon’s neck, the gesture resulting in an exasperated huff from the neighbouring stall. Céorl looked at his steed with raised eyebrows. "I do not believe my ears, Lancer! Do you honestly feel that I didn’t give you enough attention today? After rubbing you dry, checking your legs and hooves and feeding you, you will still not allow me to touch another horse? You are one envious beast, I’ll give you that!"

Demonstrating that he cared little for his steed’s protest, the warrior patted the bay stallion again, and again, his grey mount huffed indignantly before turning away to punish his master by ignoring him. The subject of their little quarrel appeared untouched by the tension and calmly continued to chew on his oats, enjoying the attention of the two men very much. Shrugging as he exchanged an eloquent look with the other warrior, Elfhelm finally dropped the straw and rubbed his hands against his breeches as he left the stall with a last pat on Éon’s powerful hindquarters.

"Knowing you, I suppose that you already have a plan?"

Céorl nodded.

"I don’t think we should enter Edoras together. They expect me back, but if you and your Riders accompany me, it will only alert the snake that something is brewing. If we want to reach something, we need to catch him unawares."

"And what do you suggest?" Elfhelm realised that he reeked heavily of horse and sweat, and he would have liked to wash before the meal, but if it was already waiting for them, it would take too long. After the long day on horseback, freezing in the stiff breeze, he very much longed for a hot meal… and he was ravenous. Oh well. It was not like the farmers would be shocked by the odour. He sighed.

Céorl’s gaze rested on Elfhelm knowingly as he explained his plan.

"My men and I will ride ahead, and I will speak with Éothain as soon as I see him to make the necessary arrangements. You will follow us three hours after moonrise, once the lights of the city have been extinguished. Then either Éothain or I will personally open the gates to let you in; we will give you a signal once the air is clear. If we want to find out what is really going on in the city, I believe we have the best chance at night, before word of our arrival reaches our adversary and he can send out his spies. I will see to it that we can speak undisturbed. Once we have been filled in, we can then decide upon the necessary steps."

With a deep intake of breath, Elfhelm stared through him for a long moment of silence. When he woke from his reverie, his brow was furrowed.

"I suppose that it is indeed the smartest approach, but I do not like it. It makes us look like thieves."

Céorl shrugged.

"Yes. But these days, it would seem that righteous men have to move this way, because the crooked ones have seized control. It cannot be helped. It is in stealth where our greatest chance lies."

"True." Elfhelm still despised the image in front of his inner eye, but he saw the sense in the other man’s words. "And what a shame that is. But I will regard it as only another insult we will make the snake pay for. I agree with your plan. My men and I will approach the city after nightfall and wait at the rocks near the Snowbourne until you give us the signal." His hand landed heavily on Céorl’s shoulder before he turned to go. "And now I am hungry. Come, let us go and see what these good people cooked for us. I feel like I could eat an entire pig all by myself."

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EDORAS

Rationally, Éowyn knew that not much time had passed before she heard the awaited rap on her door, and yet the span had seemed like an eternity. Each moment Gríma could return from whatever twisted things he had arranged for in the city and spoil her perfect opportunity to see her uncle after the long days of isolation. Oh, if she could only make him see and understand what the snake by his side was doing to his kingdom under the guise of his most loyal servant!

"Come in!" She almost jumped to her feet when the door opened and the older, red-haired warrior looked in. "Gamling! Oh, dear Gamling, I am so glad to see you! Please, do come in!"

"I must apologise, my lady," the Chief of the Royal Guard said, and when he came closer, the deepened lines on his already weathered face told of the strain that had worn on him for the past dark weeks. Carefully, he closed the door behind him before he turned back. "I meant to see you sooner, but with all the strange and disquieting things going on in Meduseld and the city, I was kept more than busy… and I preferred to visit you when the Counsellor would not know about it and we would not have to fear that he would have his ear literally on the door. That man is not easily tricked, and he seldom leaves the Hall."

"There is no need to apologise, Gamling," Éowyn said, fighting a thick lump in her throat about finally being able to talk to a friend. "Believe me, I understand. And while all of us have to bear our burdens, I realise that it must be especially hard for you."

Thoughtfully, the older man nodded, and the expression in his eyes became sad.

"It is not easy to do the Counsellor’s bidding when all I want to do is stick my sword into him, but there are so many of his men now, spies wherever you go, so that you can’t have an open word with anyone, and I do not know what he has planned for your uncle. For now, he still needs him, but what he will do once his control of the court is complete, I do not dare to think about. All I know is that I must remain close to the King at all times. I am his only protection."

The old warrior’s loyalty moved Éowyn greatly, and she laid a hand upon his arm.

"You are the greatest friend a man could wish for, Lord Gamling, and I only wish that my uncle were in a condition to fully appreciate your loyalty. But since he can’t thank you, please accept my sincere thanks."

"There is no need to thank me, my lady." Gamling looked uncomfortable. "I swore an oath to your uncle once, and it means everything to me. Together we braved hard times, and I am still convinced that we will weather this storm, too… even though it seems as if we have entered the heart of darkness these days. Yet surely, we will soon see the light at the end of the tunnel; it cannot go on like this for long. In the end we shall prevail, the way we have always done. Once our people realise that the very existence of the kingdom is at stake, they will stand up and fight." Éowyn nodded, thankful for his uplifting words and wishing that she would find the strength in herself to believe them. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, and at length, Gamling asked: "Yet this is not why you asked me to come, is it, Lady Éowyn? What else can I do for you?"

She tried to collect herself as she looked him straight in the eye.

"Gamling… I realise that this might not be a simple decision for you, but I would very much like to see my uncle. I miss him dearly, and with my brother gone, he is the only family I have left. I worry for him, and it would comfort me greatly to be allowed a few moments with him."

"Of course. It is only too understandable."

"He was so frail when I last saw him. What if he dies before I can speak with him again? Won’t he think that all his family has truly deserted him?" Éowyn shook her head, and her gaze became a desperate plea. "I do not want to give him this feeling, Gamling. He was kind to us when we came here after our parents’ death; full of understanding and care. He greatly lessened the pain we felt and helped us to overcome our grief. It is my wish and my duty to be with him as much as I can in this hard time." She expected to need more and already wracked her brain for arguments, but the old warrior surprised her.

"You do not have to convince me, my lady. I know how dear you are to each other. Come, let us not lose another minute. The King is already in his chambers, but I doubt that he is asleep yet." He turned to open the door for her, and she stared at him in wonder.

"Oh, Gamling…"

"Come," he gestured urgently. "My orders did not say that you were forbidden to see your uncle. And I am still a captain of the Royal Guard. This title must be good for something!" He turned to Déor, who was following their exchange with an expression of insecurity. "Déor, stay here. If the Counsellor returns, you will say nothing unless he asks you. If he does, which I don’t think he will, you will tell him the truth, which is that the Lady Éowyn asked me to take her to the King to see how he was faring, and that I personally took her there. I don’t see how he could object to this. But you will only tell him if he asks. If he doesn’t, we will not volunteer it. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord." Déor nodded, visibly relieved that his superior was taking full responsibility. "Certainly."

"Good." Gamling motioned for Éowyn to follow him, and she slipped out into the hall, excited to leave her chambers after the days of imprisonment.

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The King was already lying in his bed but still awake, as Gamling had rightly suspected. It had taken little effort to convince his manservant of the great favour he would be doing the King and the White Lady if he allowed their reunion even at this late hour, and so Baldor had quietly stepped aside and closed the door to grant Théoden-King and his niece a moment of privacy. Looking at Gamling, who had likewise chosen to remain outside, he found his own contentment mirrored in the guard’s face. This was the right thing to do. Perhaps these brief moments of closeness with a beloved family member would improve the King’s condition.

Suddenly feeling young and small again, Éowyn hesitantly crossed the room that was only lit by the flickering flames in the fireplace, and her insides twisted into a tight knot. The place reeked of illness and despair, and so the first thing she did was open the window to allow fresh air in before she turned to kneel on the bear-pelt before her uncle’s bed. Her heartbeat accelerated when she realised that he was looking at her rather than through her, appearing more lucid than he had when she had last seen him. But oh, he was so deadly pale, and the lines on his face were deep like the furrows on a newly set field. Yet what was that expression on his face, for it was not blank as she had seen it for these past weeks and months. Taking his hand into hers, Éowyn summoned her courage and began.

"Uncle? Uncle, can you hear me? It is I, Éowyn. Do you remember me?"

He looked at her, and behind the veil covering the faded blue eyes, there seemed to be just the smallest spark of recognition. Not sure whether it was just an illusion, Éowyn nearly jumped when the pressure of her grip was suddenly returned.

"Uncle?"

His mouth worked, as if he had trouble remembering how to form words.

"Éowyn?" It was the softest, frailest voice she had ever heard come from this man, so delicate that the merest movement of air would suffice to carry the sound away, but the effect it had on her was overwhelming. From out of nowhere, Éowyn’s eyes suddenly filled with tears of joy, and she squeezed his hand in enthusiastic affirmation.

"Yes! Yes, Uncle, it is I. Béma be blessed!" The tears spilled over, and she wiped them away with an unconscious gesture, a surge of happiness racing through her she had not felt in a long time. "How do you feel?" He looked at her as if contemplating her question, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Is Théodred here, too? I have not seen him lately."

The words were a bucket of cold water into her face, and the smile vanished from Éowyn’s lips as if it had never been there. ‘Your son died, and you do not even know about it?’ she thought with sudden bitterness, yet knew better than to voice her emotions. But the question nonetheless troubled her greatly. How much of the past did Théoden know? He seemed like a man who had just woken from a deep sleep, completely unaware of what had happened in the meantime. How on earth was she supposed to tell him that his son was dead when he was only beginning to wake?

"He is not here," she evaded, lowering her gaze to look at their intertwined hands. Gods, how to begin? If she told him of Théodred’s death and Éomer’s banishment and his role in it, the damage it could do could not be estimated. And yet somehow, she had to bring it to his attention that all was not well in his kingdom. If only she had more time. "What is the last thing you remember?" she finally asked, deciding to approach the difficult subject from a different side. Théoden looked through her, and for a moment, she feared that she had lost his attention.

"Darkness," the ill man finally said in a pensive, gloomy voice, and still he seemed to Éowyn more lucid than she had seen him in a long time. "As if I was caught in a dream I could not wake from. You were there and Éomer, and Gríma, too… and I also remember seeing Gamling and Háma…" His attention found back to her. "I called, but you would not hear me. You were looking at me, but--" the furrows on his brow deepened "—you almost seemed angry with me. I know not why. Was it only a dream, Éowyn, or did I do something horribly wrong?" An unnamed dread coloured his voice as if he feared to hear what he had done. Éowyn felt terrible, but she knew that she had no other choice. If she wanted to wake him from the stupor induced by Wormtongue, her uncle had to know the whole ugly truth. Perhaps, if she found the right words, he would be so dismayed that he would send the snake away upon his return to the hall. Perhaps, everything could find a good end even tonight!

After an additional moment of collecting herself, she finally dared to look up – and saw him flinch in reaction to her gaze. Did he already know what she was about to say? Had he witnessed the scene of the banishment, but taken it for a dream?

"It was not you," she began hesitantly. "I know that. You are ill, and have been ill for a long time, but you must know that someone very close to you has been misusing your trust to bring great damage to the Mark for a long time. He is, in fact, the one responsible for your sickness. You must send him away, Uncle, for he is an evil man." Her heart pounding against her ribs, she waited anxiously for his reaction, yet before Théoden could respond, a sudden rap on the door interrupted their moment of privacy. ‘No! No, it can not be!’

The door opened, and it was not Gamling or Baldor who looked inside; but the very subject of her words, and in his pale blue eyes Éowyn saw the understanding of what he had caught her at. How had that snake succeeded in sneaking up on them so quickly that there had not even been time for a warning?

"My lord, my lady… it is wonderful to see the two of you recovered. What a happy moment for us all this is." His gaze found Éowyn, and she lifted her chin in defiance, daring him to throw her out. "Yet it has only been three days ago that you were in the throes of a great fever, Lady Éowyn, and while I have to admit that you look much better, I would prefer to wait with a longer reunion until we can be assured that the sickness has indeed passed. As you know, your uncle’s health is a frail thing."

Oh, the mud-blood infuriated her! Was Gríma truly suggesting now that she was the reason for the King’s sickness?

"I have felt well again since yesterday, thank you, Counsellor," she replied coolly, wanting to say more, but Théoden interrupted her. The joy with which he greeted the false snake made her bodily sick.

"Gríma! I am feeling a lot better today. Did you give me a different potion?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," the dark man said as he slowly entered the room, but while he spoke with the King, his gaze remained on Éowyn as he took a small phial with a clear liquid out of his pocket. She understood the unspoken threat. ‘One word, and your brother will suffer for it.’ "I grew impatient, because your health had declined so greatly over the past weeks despite my efforts, and I thought I’d attempt something different this morning. I am most relieved to see that it worked so well." He opened the stopper and poured a few drops of the liquid into the carafe on the King’s nightstand.

Éowyn clenched her jaw, biting down heavily on her tongue. No, no, it could not be! By drinking this, her uncle would no doubt be reduced again to the will-less puppet he had been for too long, the unsuspecting pawn of the most cunning enemy the Mark had ever seen. Holding Théoden’s hand tightly, she watched how Gríma poured some of the steaming contents of the carafe into a cup for her uncle to drink. She had to intervene! She opened her mouth – and shut it again upon another knowing glance the counsellor gave her as he passed the cup to the sick man.

"Here, my lord, take this as a good-night draught. It will help you sleep."

"What would I do if I didn’t have you, Gríma," Théoden said with a thankful smile on his face. He emptied the cup, and Éowyn had to force herself to look away. She could not bear to see her uncle’s unsuspecting gratitude, or the expression of victory on the Worm’s face. Shivering with suppressed rage, she pressed the old man’s hand in a gesture of farewell, and – after planting a gentle kiss on his cheek – rose to her feet again, harbouring no doubts that by next morning, the man she loved as her surrogate father would be gone again, replaced by the hollow shell that did Rohan so much damage.

"I fear that it is time for me to leave, Uncle. You need to rest, and so do I. I will be back tomorrow, but for now, I bid you a good night." She did not look back as she left the room with hasty steps, wishing to reach the safety of her chambers before she came undone. She had been so close… Behind the door, Gamling and Baldor waited for her, and though she clearly saw the dismay on the men’s faces, she felt not ready to address them. Quietly, Gamling accompanied her to her rooms, where at last he attempted to explain.

"He was suddenly there, as if he had hidden in the shadows. I swear, if I had seen him, I would of course--"

Éowyn raised her hand, not wanting to hear it.

"I do not blame you, Gamling. It is that man." Without warning, her gaze turned to steel. "We will have to do something about him. It cannot go on like this." And with these words, she disappeared into her chambers for the night.