Title: 'Eowyn's Quest'
Author: HMS Dreadnought aka Erid'Lor
Summary: Eowyn goes on a quest to find Wormtongue, who has killed Theoden.
Rating: T
Warning: Some violence, mild coarse language. Including a decapititated Wormtongue at the end of this short story. Urgh.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, quotes, song lyrics and places belong either to J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema.
Author's Note: Please review and review! Bear in mind this is a short story, at most several chapters long. For those of you who like this piece, look out for 'The Erid'Lor'.
Also, in this story, Legolas, Gandalf and Gimli are uninvolved. Aragorn as Thorongil is however- but only slightly. Finally the updates should be two days gap between each. Build the anticipation! And now for Chap. 1.
Chapter 1: Blood Spilled
Edoras, the Courts of Rohan, was in mourning. Theoden King was dead- all because of one man, one traitor, one servant of Saruman. Grima Wormtongue had murdered the Lord.
Eowyn and Eomer, the two sister-sons of Theoden, walked slowly through the streets at the head of a somber, slow-moving procession. Six soldiers of Rohan held up the Rohirric King's funeral stretcher. Theoden lay upon the bier, his eyes shut in peace and as if in sleep, his hands clasped over the hilt of Herugrim his sword, which lay upon his chest. He was girt in his war armour, metal gleaming in the Sun's light. Beside him on the bier was the crown which had been forged for him, as each King of Rohan received his own crown made for specially for him upon coronation.
If one had looked upon Theoden's back and through the armour, he would gasp at the ugly wounds inflicted and the blood which soaked the otherwise clean linen shirt he was clothed in.
Wormtongue the Murderer, taking up a knife, had stabbed the Lord five separate times upon an argument of whether Saruman was friend or foe following a brutal attack upon the Westfold by Uruk-Hai and Dunlendings- who bore the standard of the White Hand of Saruman. Wormtongue had fled Edoras immediately after upon a horse and the guards had failed to capture him. He had been spotted riding towards Isengard.
The entire population of Edoras except for the sick lined the streets of the capital, throwing flowers onto the side of the cobblestone path on which the procession of the surviving royalty, soldiers and Knights of Meduseld like Gamling and Hama, walked, some crying at the death of their King, who had brought them good times of peace and friendship with other states. Eomer's face was lined with weariness and tear tracks glistened faintly on his cheeks, the tears themselves dripping from his chin onto the road. Eowyn sobbed quietly into a lace handkerchief, occasionally being wracked by grief as the sobs redoubled.
The city lay quiet as the people of Edoras joined the procession wound its way past them to the mounds in which the lords of the royal line were buried. Civilians wore black clothes while the soldiers wore Rohirric armour, and Edoras was a cemetery- for a little while.
When the procession finally reached the burial grounds, Eowyn broke into the traditional song of death and loss, her voice shaky, but fitting for the occasion.
"Heo naefre wacode daegred
To bisig mid daegeweorcum
Ac oft heo wacode sunnanwanung
Thonne nihtciele creap geond moras
And on thaere hwile
Heo dreag tha losinga
Ealra thinga the heo forleas
Heo swa oft dreag hire sawle sincende
He one cuthe hire heortan lusd."
The soldiers slowly carried the body of Theoden into the heart of the mound, as civilians scattered the white flower of Rohan Rohinast onto the top of the grave. Its fragrant scent rose into the air, mingling with the salty smell of tears. As the soldiers came out from the chamber, a moment of silence was observed for the spirit of Theoden. Then the door to the chamber slammed and was locked.
Theoden was journeying to the Halls of Mandos.
Eomer, Eowyn, Gamling, Hama and the Advisor of Theoden, Thorongil, held a Council of War. Eomer stood up, speaking to each individual, looking his friends in the eye.
"Theoden King has been murdered by Grima Wormtongue. By law I am the rightful heir. But I cannot be Lord of my people until the killer is himself killed as Rohirric law dictates. We must hunt down Grima- and avenge my father's death.
Eowyn interjected, somewhat rudely, and said with fierceness showing on her face, "I will personally chase and kill Wormtongue. I have skill enough with the blade. I am strong enough. Wormtongue has long had an evil glint in his eye when he looks at me- the glint of an evil lust- the glint that Morgoth had when he looked at Luthien Tinuviel. I have this right, to avenge the Kingdom of Rohan, Theoden King, and the Westfold."
Thorongil nodded his approval, and smiled. "You have proved your skill with the blade more than once against me, though you never managed to defeat me. On top of that," he laughed at the thought, "You have not neglected my history lessons either." Gamling and Hama nodded their assent.
Eomer, however, objected. "I will not have my sister to go riding through lands now dangerous on an even more dangerous quest! Wormtongue may be a lying wretch but he is a warrior nonetheless. On top of that he is a servant of Isengard- orcs and wargs and wild men would help him! No, Eowyn, you cannot go. I will not risk your death."
Eowyn smiled bitterly. "Then you will have to chain me up in a prison for otherwise I will go, no matter what you think. I will have my just revenge."
Eomer sighed weariedly, distractingly running his fingers through his hair. "Then if I cannot change your mind, you will go. With my –unwilling- approval."
The next morning, Eowyn, her bags, provisions and supplies packed on put on her horse, mounted the saddle, a sharp blade of the Rohirrim strapped to her side, a helmet on her head, armour on her body. She rode out of Edoras. She would go- for vengeance!
P.S. The song, I think, is what Eowyn sang in the movie when Theodred was buried. I think. Not sure, mind you. For those of you who think that a) this chapter is too short, and b) I'm concentrating a little bit too much on details and being slow, this is my reply:
To a) : Well, it IS a short story.
To b): I agree. It's just that I'm trying to recreate that mood of a burial.
Please review and review, no matter the tone or the comments.