Disclaimer: LotR and all its related characters do not belong to me and are used without permission. Book based. Spoilers potentially for RotK and TTT

"Into Shadow She Rode"

Chapter 1: Dreams and Disgrace

by Papillon

Lights streamed past, blurred, as if she were galloping on a horse faster than she'd ever dreamed possible, a horse intangible and incontrollable and swift as the strike of lightning. She caught snippets of sound as the rushing air moved past her…"The king's sister is dead."…A familiar voice that tugged at her memory…"What a pity…these children are so young."…then another voice, chiding and strained…"Hush, you will wake her."

Gradually the moving colours resolved themselves, becoming the solid surroundings of her nursery. She blinked, shaking the sleep from her eyes, then sat bolt upright as she remembered what the voices had been saying. Mother…dead…The owners of the voices, however, were nowhere to be seen. She was alone in the room and could hear none of the familiar sounds that usually greeted her upon waking. Silence pressed in, stifling her with its hinted threats.

She jumped out of bed, still in her nightgown, and ran down the hallway, seeking for someone, anyone, to explain, to tell her that the voices were wrong…or even that they were right. She knew they were right, in her heart, with a child's intuition, but she needed to hear the words, horrible as they would be. She was too blinded by the tears that sprang unheeded to her eyes to see him before he grabbed her arm and stopped her frantic movements.

"Éomer…" She could see in his eyes that he knew, too, and that he was afraid to tell her. She raised a clenched fist to dash the tears from her still sleep-clouded eyes. "It is no use, Éomer…"

He took a deep breath, acknowledging what they both knew, and pulled her into an embrace, enfolding her in comforting arms. She broke down, weeping into his shoulder even as she felt him trembling to maintain control in her presence. She felt so very lost and alone, so very young…I cannot bear it… She pulled away from him then, a sudden, horrific thought occurring to her.

"Éomer, where will we go? We are orphans now…"

His eyes refocused on her and his grief was momentarily forgotten. "I do not know, my dear Éowyn, but I promise you this: that I shall always be by your side to protect you from ill or harm, until the day I die. As long as I live, I swear to watch over you always, by the great House that spawned us, or let me be stricken down where I stand."


A hand pounded on her heavy wooden door insistently, and Éowyn reluctantly brought herself awake. That was the third time in two weeks that she'd had that dream, and she wondered what its significance could be. The knocking sounded again, and she filed away the dream to be pondered later when she had the time. She wondered who would be seeking her at this early hour, for dawn was still nearly an hour away, as evidenced by the heavy blackness blanketing the world outside. She searched blindly for a torch, then thrust it into the glowing embers in the hearth to bring some light into the room. Finally, she opened her chamber door, only to find empty darkness. Puzzled, she looked down the hall, then jumped as she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

She turned to see Éomer, grinning wickedly. She sighed.

"I should have known it was you. But I am amazed to see you awake before noon, much less before dawn!"

A smirk formed on his face, and she longed to wipe it off, but stayed still for the moment.

"I cannot believe you have forgotten," he said teasingly, "you, of the ever-perfect memory."

She shifted impatiently. "If there is something you have to tell me, please do it now, because I have to start my chores soon."

His tone changed to one of mocking. "Oh, yes, 'tis a pity that girls cannot ride patrols with the rest of us, and must stay home to scrub the floors and cook the meals."

She did not rise to his deliberate bait, for it was one she had heard many times before and, though the hurt still rankled, she had long since given up trying to respond. Instead, she said sweetly, "Well, I know it must be great fun rounding up errant sheep for worried farmers. You are so brave and daring."

He frowned angrily. He was bothered by the fact that he was not yet allowed to participate in real battles, just as she hated that she was not allowed to fight at all, but he accepted the barb and let it pass. Éowyn was only fourteen, after all. He said tolerantly, "I will be given a chance to be brave someday, which is more than you can say. But let us stop the teasing. Today is the day when Théoden arrives home, remember?"

She turned pale, "Oh, no…"

He asked confusedly, "What ails you? You should be rejoicing that he will be back. We won't have to endure Théodred's pompous nonsense anymore. I know you hate it as much as I do. He treats us as if we were still the small children that we were when we first came to live here." His brows drew together in remembrance.

"No, I will be glad indeed to see Théoden back," she said with a distracted look on her face, "But I fear for the welcoming feast. My best dress has mud stains and tears all over it. It is a disgrace, and I have nothing else suitable."

A smile tugged at the edges of Éomer's mouth. "I suppose it will not serve to ask how your dress came to be in such a state. Probably climbing trees again, or some such nonsense. You really are hopeless, you know. But Théoden will not truly be angry. He never is; we have all grown much too used to your antics."

" 'Tis not Théoden's disapproval that I fear, but that of the new counsellor." She laughed at Éomer's blank look. "It seems I am not the only one who has been forgetful! One of the reasons for this journey was to find a new counsellor to replace Britard, if you recall. And no matter who he has chosen, he will doubtless not approve of my attire." She sighed. "I suppose it is my own fault, and I must endure the consequences. It is just…Théoden wishes for a daughter, or even a sister-daughter, who is proper and will do as she is told and will make a good marriage and…I am not his desire. He laughs at my boyishness, but I see in his eyes that I do not please him, and I never shall."

"Théodred has been speaking to you again, has he not?" Eomer asked.

Eowyn looked away. "It is not just him…I know that Théoden feels that way as well. I know that everyone does. It is only Théodred who will put it into words and scold me when he finds me practicing with the swords in the armory. But you all wish for something else. Someone else."

Éomer stood silent for a moment, then reached out and grasped her shoulder with firm hands. "Éowyn…I know it shall never make a difference, but I love you no matter what you do, as does Théoden. You have been set a hard fate, and you must follow your own path."

"Do you understand?" he asked, shaking her a little for emphasis, since she would not meet his eyes. "Do not listen to Théodred's muttering. He is only angry because of the last time you beat him at archery," he said, grinning broadly.

She looked up, finally. "The look on his face! He was so shocked that a female, a girl of all things, could beat him," she said, smiling. "Thank you, Éomer."

"Silly fool," he said affectionately, ruffling her already bed-mussed hair.

"I have been meaning to tell you of this dream-" she started, only to be interrupted by an impatient call from the end of the hallway.

"Éowyn! Where is that girl?"

"Now you have made me late!" she cried, and ran off to search for her mantle, saying as she went, "Be off, Éomer! Make yourself useful for once."

Éomer laughed, but left, shutting the door with a heavy thud behind him.


Éowyn hurriedly dressed, twisting her hair into a rude knot, and dashed out the door, but stopped short as she nearly collided into Théodred. His mouth was drawn into a disapproving frown.

She sighed inwardly. Théodred was a good man, noble and courageous in battle, but, when given the responsibilities of a king in Théoden's absence, he became prideful and eager to make his will done. He also became very angry when ignored. But Éowyn feared the wrath of Éyartha, the head of the kitchen and all domestic affairs, more, and so she dodged Théodred, calling over her shoulder, "My thousand apologies, my lord, but I must see you another time." She knew her behavior would mean reprisals later, but she kept running, finally arriving at the main cooking hall.


Éyartha wasted no time on scolding, but immediately set her to work kneading bread.

Éowyn was, indeed, almost a princess, yet Théoden still required her to do the chores that would be required of any other girl her age in Rohan. Éomer jested that it was to make her into a suitable wife, but Éowyn rather suspected it was to teach her humility. Éyartha never treated her any differently than she did the other servants, and anyone who did soon learned to forget their respect. Théodred was bothered by this lack of honor, but it was not in his power even when Théoden was gone to change it.

She thought of her dream and wondered at its power. She knew from past experience that it would continue to haunt her for the next few days and, once its echo had faded, she would dream it once more soon after. She did not place much importance on portents and omens, yet she could not help herself…If I am meant to know something, I wish it would be given more clearly! What am I to do with a silly childhood memory?


The day passed quickly, baking and mopping floors and setting the table in the high feasting hall, and soon it was almost nightfall. Éowyn returned to her room and scrubbed her best gown, but the mud stains still remained. She put in on nonetheless, for she had nothing else. She paused, tying the bodice, and looked down out of her window. The high stairs leading up to Meduseld were lit up with many candles, which glimmered in the dusk, and she saw the waning moon begin to gain brilliance as the sun set. She looked beyond the city and saw the White Mountains shining faintly and, to the north, forest far in the distance. She heard a knocking upon her door and, before she could answer it, Éomer opened it hurriedly and burst inside.

"Éowyn, you are late!" he cried. "Théoden and the new counsellor have already arrived, and we are gathering in the Hall! Hurry, ere you are further disgraced!"

She quickly finished lacing her bodice and rushed out of the door behind Éomer, her undone long yellow hair streaming behind her. "Ay!" she said to herself as she went hurriedly downstairs, "It seems all I do today goes ill!"

All those invited had already arrived when they reached the Great Hall of Meduseld, and those on the dais, seated around the king, looked up as they walked in. To the left of Théoden sat a pale man with a cunning face and heavy-lidded eyes, and on his right sat Théodred. The pale man looked at Éowyn and she beheld in his eyes some unnamed menace, and shivered as though chilled. But she was aware that he had seen her reflexive shudder, and so she squared her shoulders and walked tall beside her brother as they strode up to the dais, unashamed of her mud-stained dress and tousled hair. I am a daughter of the House of Eorl, and no foreigner shall fail to give me respect! Éomer also had seen something in the stranger's face which troubled him, and he also held himself proudly. As they moved to take their places at the side of Théodred, Éowyn was gratified to see that the stranger's face had lost its look of contemptuous superiority.

Théoden stood, addressing all of those gathered in the Golden Hall. "I have gathered you here tonight to announce a triumph for Edoras, and all of Rohan. Britard, my counsellor for many years, has asked for leave to wed and I have granted his request. But this sad parting has led to a new and greater age for us all. I have searched long and far for a new counsellor, both wise and worthy of this position, and I have found all that I desired. I present to you Gríma son of Gálmód, my new counsellor and a man who is wise in all things!"

So saying, he beckoned for Gríma to stand beside him, which he did, bowing. "I am honored to be able to serve your people, my lord Théoden. I shall do all in my power to offer cautious wisdom which will benefit all the people of Rohan," he said, his eyes roaming the room and finally coming to rest on Éowyn as he resumed his seat. She met his gaze proudly; clear grey eyes meeting hooded dark ones. She tried to read what she had seen in his eyes when she first entered the room, but they were veiled once more and closed to her. They remained locked thusly for long moments, and she looked away only when Éomer elbowed her. Stifling a grimace, she looked over at him impatiently.

"What ails you?" she hissed.

"Théoden wishes for the wine to be served!" he whispered back. "Go and do your duty as the lady of this house!"

Lady? I am no Lady yet! she thought, but she stood and began pouring wine to Théoden. Custom dictated that she must also serve all of the king's honored guests, and so she reluctantly bent low to fill Gríma's cup. Swift as lightning his hand shot out to grasp her wrist, and she barely stifled a cry of dismay. She tried to shake his fingers, but they clutched as if embedded into her skin. She looked about, avoiding meeting his gaze, but all eyes were turned to the king and did not notice her, captured at his side. She dared not cry out for fear of humiliating the king.

Gríma tugged upon her arm, forcing her to turn her eyes back to him. Her eyebrows drew together murderously and hot words were on her tongue, but then he abruptly released her hand and sat back in his seat. He smiled indulgently, as her Nurse used to do when she was much younger and said something foolish.

"My apologies, my lady. I meant no offense," he said, "I merely wished to see you more closely, as it is said that you will one day be one of the most famed beauties in all the land. Indeed the rumors are not false."

Éowyn composed her face and said coolly, "You flatter me, my lord counsellor." Then she turned on her heels and returned to her seat.

As soon as she had seated herself, Éomer leaned over and asked, "Why did you linger so long before the counsellor?"

"Meet me tonight and I shall tell you," she whispered back, fearful that someone might hear. The rest of the night passed slowly, with Éowyn being forced to sit on the dais and watch as the other guests danced, as befitted a nearly-princess not yet come of age. She did not dare look over at Gríma, yet an uncomfortable feeling of thorns pricking her danced up and down her spine all evening and she felt the weight of his eyes upon her, tracing her every move.


The two children of Éomund had, since they were little, had always been accustomed to meet in times of trouble at the back of the terrace which surrounded Meduseld, where few guards disturbed them and they could talk in peace. There they met when all the feasting was done and the guests had departed and all others had gone to rest, save a few guards at the top of the stairs, who knew them and did not trouble them. The shadow of the mountains stretched over them and the torches burned low as they sat close together on a small bench, wrapped in cloaks to ward off the deepening chill of night.

"There is an ill-favored look about him which I like not," Éomer declared. "He looked at you as though…I cannot say, but it unsettled me."

Éowyn brushed a loose lock of hair out of her face and said, "I know what you speak of…his eyes felt like hot coals upon me."

"So what shall we do?" Éomer asked. "We cannot allow this sort of treatment! You are the King's sister-daughter and should be treated with the utmost respect, not insulted thusly."

"What shall we do?" Éowyn responded, frowning. "What can we do? There is naught we could say, save, 'He looked at me in a way that did not please me.' Do you think that would please Théoden, to be disgraced by two overly suspicious kinfolk?"

"We are not overly suspicious!" Éomer cried. "He spells ill for the both of us, and for all the kingdom of Rohan, mark my words!"

Éowyn laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I know, Éomer. But do not let us be rash. We must bide our time. Perhaps we merely imagined something in his look. I do not doubt that he is very wise and will serve Rohan well, else Théoden would not have chosen him."

Éomer sighed. "I like it not, but I will do as you say. Now, dear sister," he said, his tone changing to one of teasing, "it is far too late for such a delicate young lady to be awake. I shall see you in the morrow."

Éowyn stood up angrily. "Oh, you are impossible!" she cried, but bade him farewell and went to bed.



A/N: A tad sappy perhaps, but it was a setting up chapter, what do you expect? This story will get very dark, I expect, though it will still have a happy ending, I rather imagine, as it mostly follows the book. With one important exception, which is yet to be revealed! This is my first posted story (oh, I'm so nervous!) , so reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreciated. Very much indeed. And, oh, argh, Tolkien's writing style is so HARD! I can't write in it, because it's so unnatural, and I can't write in my own, because it doesn't fit in Tolkien's universe, so I'm stuck somewhere in between and I'm not sure it's working out. Look for the next chapter within a week, I think.