Title: Gold and Steel
Author: Sofie K Werkers
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings
Pairings: Gríma Wormtongue/Éowyn
Rating: PG
Summary: Sacrifices made.
Status: New, finished.
Date: 17 January 2003 - 4 March 2003
Archive: Yes to Silverlake. All others, please ask.
Email: minerva@femgeeks.net
Feedback: If you like this story, please let me know. If you don't,
please let me know why not.
Web Page:
Disclaimer: I don't own Gríma Wormtongue (dammit!) or Éowyn (double
dammit!) or this universe. Everything Tolkien-related belongs to JRR
Tolkien and his heirs.
Warnings: The working title for this was "Evil Het Story". That should
say enough.
Dedication: For Amy, who is a sick little bunny and refuses to stop
encouraging *my* sick little bunnies.
Author's Notes: My first het story ever, based on the premise of
Dale's Ring Challenge: what if someone else had gotten the Ring? In
this case, Gríma Wormtongue. Inspired by the movie, but book-canon.
Thanks go to Molly and Meg for read-through, and to Nyree and Sarah
for beta.
Cover can be found here:
Gold and Steel
==============
by Sofie K Werkers
Grave and thoughtful was her glance, and she looked on the king with
pity in her eyes. Very fair was her face, and her long hair was like a
river of gold. Slender and tall she was in her white robe girt with
silver; but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a daughter of kings.
(The Lord of the Rings; The Two Towers; The King of the Golden Hall)
He came to her in the weapon chamber, appearing at her side while she
was girding on her sword belt. "My lady." She whirled around, turning
to face him.
"You! What are you doing here?" Her hand was on the hilt of her sword,
ready to strike should he make a move. He didn't.
"I have come to see *you*, my lady." He smiled. "May I ask why your
worship is preparing for battle? Surely Théoden King is not so
desperate he requires *women* to ride with him?"
"Hold your tongue, serpent," she hissed, drawing her sword. "Why have
you come here? Did Gandalf not send you away? Did he not warn you
never to return?"
"Indeed he did, my lady. But Gandalf Stormcrow is far from here, and
Rohan is at the mercy of fate. I have come, Éowyn of Rohan, to propose
a trade."
"A trade?" She lowered her sword, but did not replace it in its
sheath. "A trade, Gríma Wormtongue, should be equal. What can you
offer that I should forget your treachery and deal with you as with an
equal?"
"Nothing, my lady, but the future of Rohan." She said nothing,
stunned. He continued, "The men of Rohan will ride to the aid of
Gondor today, but not all will return. Théoden King will not see the
end of this battle, my Lady, nor will your brother. Without them,
Rohan will soon be lost to the Dark Lord."
"Are you a seer now, snake? How can you claim to know the future?" She
was angry, with him, and with herself for listening to his words. Fear
grew in her heart. "There is hope even in these dark times."
"You refer to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, who claims to be King of
Gondor." He smiled again, and her blood ran cold. "Alas, Lady Éowyn,
even the mightiest cannot defeat Sauron while the One Ring is still
intact. And the Ringbearer has failed."
"You lie!" She screamed, raising her sword, but when she swung it and
tried to take his treacherous head off his shoulders, she struck
nothing but air. He had vanished. "Snake! Where are you?"
"I am right here, my lady," his voice came from behind her, mocking.
She turned and struck again, but struck but air once more.
"Show yourself!"
"Not until you lower your sword. I did not come to harm you, nor to be
harmed myself."
She paused, then lowered her sword. Instantly, he reappeared before
her very eyes. "What devilry is this? Have you become a wizard,
serpent? Is this how Saruman rewarded you?"
"Nay, my lady, this is not Saruman's doing. Saruman's way left mine
five days hence, and I know not where he is now."
"Surely one who claims to see the future would know where Saruman is."
He smiled. "Perhaps, then, I should say that I care not where he is
now. Saruman has lost his army, his staff, and his power, my lady. He
is no longer a threat to Rohan. But others are."
"One does not need to be a seer to know this, Wormtongue. You say you
can ward off this threat?"
"No, my lady, I cannot. But you can. Your uncle and brother will not
return from the battle in Gondor, and you will be the sole heiress of
Rohan." She did not say a word, suddenly knowing with terrible
certainty that he was speaking the truth. "Although the people of
Rohan will follow you, none can stand against Mordor and prevail. You
would be Queen of a doomed kingdom."
"Enough!" She clawed the air with her free hand, as if trying to chase
the dark visions he had painted. "You offered me the future of Rohan
as a trade. How do you propose this, if none can stand against
Mordor?"
"None but I can stand against Mordor, for I have the source or the
Dark Lord's power." He held out his hand level with the floor, and
opened it to reveal a gold ring. She gasped.
"You ..."
"The Ringbearer was dead when I found him, my lady. I would not have
taken it otherwise."
"But you did."
"I did. The One Ring is a powerful weapon. It consumes its owner,
Éowyn. I would not see it consume you."
"My patience is wearing thing, snake. What trade do you offer me?"
"The future and safety of Rohan. The people will follow you, my lady,
but they will also look to you for protection. If you agree to this
trade, you will have the power to give them that safety, and more.
Prosperity, security, peace."
"And if I do not agree to the trade?"
"Then you will do as you planned. You will go into battle, disguised
as a man, and you will find death alongside your kin. And Rohan will
be lost forever."
"And in return, what do you ask?"
"Only your hand in marriage, Lady Éowyn."
"Only my hand?" She faced him boldly, her meaning clear.
"Only your hand," he repeated, meeting her eyes level. Her hand
tightened around the hilt of her sword as she considered his offer.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They were wed in high summer, on mid-year's day, after the mourning
for her uncle and brother had ended. His predictions had proven true,
and she would do whatever it took to ensure the safety of Rohan. She
wore white and scarlet, as was the tradition in Rohan. White, the
colour of kingsfoil, was also the colour of mourning, as the young
bride mourned the childhood she was leaving behind. Scarlet was the
colour symbolising the fertility a marriage would hopefully be blessed
with.
Far beyond the borders of Rohan, the praise of Éowyn, Warrior Queen of
Rohan was sang. She was said to be wise and kind, and from the
furthest borders of Rohan, people came to ask her counsel, or to hear
her ruling in a dispute. Yet she was not hesitant to go to war if war
was necessary for the freedom and prosperity of her people, and it
was said that in battle, she was worth a dozen men.
Rohan blossomed under Éowyn's reign, and for years, its people were
content. But people started to worry, and old women were gossiping
among themselves. "Why is there not yet an heir to the throne?" they
asked. "If there is no heir soon, it will be too late. The line of
Eorl will end with Queen Éowyn, and we will be without a king to
govern us and protect us."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She went to him in the nightgown that had been made for her wedding
night, but which she had never used. He had kept his word in this as
well, his touches never straying beyond brotherly at most. She found
herself getting used to them, expecting him to be at her side, always.
She hated him for it, for making her dependent on him, and for giving
her no choice but to go to him of her own free will.
"My lady?" He looked confused, at a loss for words as she had never
seen him before.
"The people want an heir to the throne."
"There are many men in Rohan who would gladly give you one."
"I will not crown a bastard King of Rohan, my lord." He was silent
then. "The Ring," she whispered. "Would you remove it?"
He slid the Ring from his finger, and laid her on his bed. She went
willingly, but not gladly, and when he attempted to kiss her, she
turned from his lips.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And so it was that in the seventh year of the Third Age of Middle
Earth, Théomer, son and heir to Gríma and Éowyn Queen of Rohan, was
born. He was raised a true son of Rohan. Taught by his mother to ride,
he soon became a familiar sight for the people of Rohan, and they soon
came to love him as they loved his mother.
In his youth, there was strife between the people of Rohan and those
of Gondor, for Gondor had been left without King or Stewart, and the
Captains of Gondor now claimed kingship over all the West. But soon,
the Captains themselves became subject to strife, and for two score
years, war reigned in Gondor while Rohan thrived.
The people of Gondor came to Edoras seeking peace and protection, and
the Queen had mercy on them. Soon, word was brought from Rohan that
the Captains would place Gondor under the protection of Rohan, but
that they would not give up their claim to the throne of Gondor to an
old woman.
And so it was that in the year forty-seven of the Third Age, Théomer
was crowned King of the Rohan and Gondor, three days after his mother
had named him heir and forsaken her throne. She was not present at his
coronation, and the King was crowned by Haleth, Captain of the
Rohirrim.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Through her window she watched as her son became King. "Today ends the
reign of Éowyn, Queen of Rohan, and the glory of Gondor and the Heirs
of Isildur," she whispered to herself.
"The name of Gondor will become legend, my lady, as will yours." She
was not surprised to find him standing behind her, nor did she startle
when he rested his hand on her shoulder. "Do you regret forsaking your
throne?"
"I regret no choice I have made in this life, my lord," she replied,
and when she covered his hand with her own, the ring was cold under
her fingers.
END
Author: Sofie K Werkers
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings
Pairings: Gríma Wormtongue/Éowyn
Rating: PG
Summary: Sacrifices made.
Status: New, finished.
Date: 17 January 2003 - 4 March 2003
Archive: Yes to Silverlake. All others, please ask.
Email: minerva@femgeeks.net
Feedback: If you like this story, please let me know. If you don't,
please let me know why not.
Web Page:
Disclaimer: I don't own Gríma Wormtongue (dammit!) or Éowyn (double
dammit!) or this universe. Everything Tolkien-related belongs to JRR
Tolkien and his heirs.
Warnings: The working title for this was "Evil Het Story". That should
say enough.
Dedication: For Amy, who is a sick little bunny and refuses to stop
encouraging *my* sick little bunnies.
Author's Notes: My first het story ever, based on the premise of
Dale's Ring Challenge: what if someone else had gotten the Ring? In
this case, Gríma Wormtongue. Inspired by the movie, but book-canon.
Thanks go to Molly and Meg for read-through, and to Nyree and Sarah
for beta.
Cover can be found here:
Gold and Steel
==============
by Sofie K Werkers
Grave and thoughtful was her glance, and she looked on the king with
pity in her eyes. Very fair was her face, and her long hair was like a
river of gold. Slender and tall she was in her white robe girt with
silver; but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a daughter of kings.
(The Lord of the Rings; The Two Towers; The King of the Golden Hall)
He came to her in the weapon chamber, appearing at her side while she
was girding on her sword belt. "My lady." She whirled around, turning
to face him.
"You! What are you doing here?" Her hand was on the hilt of her sword,
ready to strike should he make a move. He didn't.
"I have come to see *you*, my lady." He smiled. "May I ask why your
worship is preparing for battle? Surely Théoden King is not so
desperate he requires *women* to ride with him?"
"Hold your tongue, serpent," she hissed, drawing her sword. "Why have
you come here? Did Gandalf not send you away? Did he not warn you
never to return?"
"Indeed he did, my lady. But Gandalf Stormcrow is far from here, and
Rohan is at the mercy of fate. I have come, Éowyn of Rohan, to propose
a trade."
"A trade?" She lowered her sword, but did not replace it in its
sheath. "A trade, Gríma Wormtongue, should be equal. What can you
offer that I should forget your treachery and deal with you as with an
equal?"
"Nothing, my lady, but the future of Rohan." She said nothing,
stunned. He continued, "The men of Rohan will ride to the aid of
Gondor today, but not all will return. Théoden King will not see the
end of this battle, my Lady, nor will your brother. Without them,
Rohan will soon be lost to the Dark Lord."
"Are you a seer now, snake? How can you claim to know the future?" She
was angry, with him, and with herself for listening to his words. Fear
grew in her heart. "There is hope even in these dark times."
"You refer to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, who claims to be King of
Gondor." He smiled again, and her blood ran cold. "Alas, Lady Éowyn,
even the mightiest cannot defeat Sauron while the One Ring is still
intact. And the Ringbearer has failed."
"You lie!" She screamed, raising her sword, but when she swung it and
tried to take his treacherous head off his shoulders, she struck
nothing but air. He had vanished. "Snake! Where are you?"
"I am right here, my lady," his voice came from behind her, mocking.
She turned and struck again, but struck but air once more.
"Show yourself!"
"Not until you lower your sword. I did not come to harm you, nor to be
harmed myself."
She paused, then lowered her sword. Instantly, he reappeared before
her very eyes. "What devilry is this? Have you become a wizard,
serpent? Is this how Saruman rewarded you?"
"Nay, my lady, this is not Saruman's doing. Saruman's way left mine
five days hence, and I know not where he is now."
"Surely one who claims to see the future would know where Saruman is."
He smiled. "Perhaps, then, I should say that I care not where he is
now. Saruman has lost his army, his staff, and his power, my lady. He
is no longer a threat to Rohan. But others are."
"One does not need to be a seer to know this, Wormtongue. You say you
can ward off this threat?"
"No, my lady, I cannot. But you can. Your uncle and brother will not
return from the battle in Gondor, and you will be the sole heiress of
Rohan." She did not say a word, suddenly knowing with terrible
certainty that he was speaking the truth. "Although the people of
Rohan will follow you, none can stand against Mordor and prevail. You
would be Queen of a doomed kingdom."
"Enough!" She clawed the air with her free hand, as if trying to chase
the dark visions he had painted. "You offered me the future of Rohan
as a trade. How do you propose this, if none can stand against
Mordor?"
"None but I can stand against Mordor, for I have the source or the
Dark Lord's power." He held out his hand level with the floor, and
opened it to reveal a gold ring. She gasped.
"You ..."
"The Ringbearer was dead when I found him, my lady. I would not have
taken it otherwise."
"But you did."
"I did. The One Ring is a powerful weapon. It consumes its owner,
Éowyn. I would not see it consume you."
"My patience is wearing thing, snake. What trade do you offer me?"
"The future and safety of Rohan. The people will follow you, my lady,
but they will also look to you for protection. If you agree to this
trade, you will have the power to give them that safety, and more.
Prosperity, security, peace."
"And if I do not agree to the trade?"
"Then you will do as you planned. You will go into battle, disguised
as a man, and you will find death alongside your kin. And Rohan will
be lost forever."
"And in return, what do you ask?"
"Only your hand in marriage, Lady Éowyn."
"Only my hand?" She faced him boldly, her meaning clear.
"Only your hand," he repeated, meeting her eyes level. Her hand
tightened around the hilt of her sword as she considered his offer.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They were wed in high summer, on mid-year's day, after the mourning
for her uncle and brother had ended. His predictions had proven true,
and she would do whatever it took to ensure the safety of Rohan. She
wore white and scarlet, as was the tradition in Rohan. White, the
colour of kingsfoil, was also the colour of mourning, as the young
bride mourned the childhood she was leaving behind. Scarlet was the
colour symbolising the fertility a marriage would hopefully be blessed
with.
Far beyond the borders of Rohan, the praise of Éowyn, Warrior Queen of
Rohan was sang. She was said to be wise and kind, and from the
furthest borders of Rohan, people came to ask her counsel, or to hear
her ruling in a dispute. Yet she was not hesitant to go to war if war
was necessary for the freedom and prosperity of her people, and it
was said that in battle, she was worth a dozen men.
Rohan blossomed under Éowyn's reign, and for years, its people were
content. But people started to worry, and old women were gossiping
among themselves. "Why is there not yet an heir to the throne?" they
asked. "If there is no heir soon, it will be too late. The line of
Eorl will end with Queen Éowyn, and we will be without a king to
govern us and protect us."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She went to him in the nightgown that had been made for her wedding
night, but which she had never used. He had kept his word in this as
well, his touches never straying beyond brotherly at most. She found
herself getting used to them, expecting him to be at her side, always.
She hated him for it, for making her dependent on him, and for giving
her no choice but to go to him of her own free will.
"My lady?" He looked confused, at a loss for words as she had never
seen him before.
"The people want an heir to the throne."
"There are many men in Rohan who would gladly give you one."
"I will not crown a bastard King of Rohan, my lord." He was silent
then. "The Ring," she whispered. "Would you remove it?"
He slid the Ring from his finger, and laid her on his bed. She went
willingly, but not gladly, and when he attempted to kiss her, she
turned from his lips.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And so it was that in the seventh year of the Third Age of Middle
Earth, Théomer, son and heir to Gríma and Éowyn Queen of Rohan, was
born. He was raised a true son of Rohan. Taught by his mother to ride,
he soon became a familiar sight for the people of Rohan, and they soon
came to love him as they loved his mother.
In his youth, there was strife between the people of Rohan and those
of Gondor, for Gondor had been left without King or Stewart, and the
Captains of Gondor now claimed kingship over all the West. But soon,
the Captains themselves became subject to strife, and for two score
years, war reigned in Gondor while Rohan thrived.
The people of Gondor came to Edoras seeking peace and protection, and
the Queen had mercy on them. Soon, word was brought from Rohan that
the Captains would place Gondor under the protection of Rohan, but
that they would not give up their claim to the throne of Gondor to an
old woman.
And so it was that in the year forty-seven of the Third Age, Théomer
was crowned King of the Rohan and Gondor, three days after his mother
had named him heir and forsaken her throne. She was not present at his
coronation, and the King was crowned by Haleth, Captain of the
Rohirrim.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Through her window she watched as her son became King. "Today ends the
reign of Éowyn, Queen of Rohan, and the glory of Gondor and the Heirs
of Isildur," she whispered to herself.
"The name of Gondor will become legend, my lady, as will yours." She
was not surprised to find him standing behind her, nor did she startle
when he rested his hand on her shoulder. "Do you regret forsaking your
throne?"
"I regret no choice I have made in this life, my lord," she replied,
and when she covered his hand with her own, the ring was cold under
her fingers.
END