(AN: I felt this particular one-shot deserved to be the first I uploaded. It's several years old, and was the first fanfiction I recall investing emotion in. I hope you like it, it is in its original form as I resisted the urge to edit and improve... Barely. Enjoy, review. ~Saoirse)
With every step she took through these once hallowed halls, his pale eyes followed her. Taking in every nuance of the shieldmaiden's appearance, even against his will... and make no mistake, it was against his will.
He wished with every fiber of his being it wasn't so, that when she entered a room he could breathe freely. He wished his heart didn't speed yet seem to thud to a stop all at once when she neared him... that his hands didn't clench and unclench with the suppressed desire to reach out and grasp her own.
But most of all, he wished he could pretend these things weren't so, that he could act half as brave as the object of his affections and wonderment. That he could show even a little selflessness... but he wouldn't, he couldn't undo what had been done, he couldn't change the pain she had felt because of him, and he knew with his entire being, she would never allow him to explain... to make her see.
As they sat at the dining table in the grand hall, he attempted not to flinch each and every time she glanced his way, unwilling to meet the ice-cold stare he was so sure would be filled with hate, even if she was his only companion to be had... apart from the king, but... he was hardly company at this point.
His hand shook slightly as he reached out for his goblet, drinking the wine deeply as he slipped into his memory palace, focusing on the events that had brought them to this god-forsakenly lonely place.
It had began with Saruman of course... his idle threats, they had meant very little in the beginning, at least until the wizard had discovered where Grima's true loyalties lied, then he was able to move him easier than a pawn on a chessboard. Grima would have forfeited his life if it had meant saving her, her happiness, and everything she held dear... but he refused to put her life on the chopping block... and that had been exactly what was at stake.
It was agreed upon then... Saruman would spare her, if and only if he helped him dispatch of the king and his heir.
But now as he thought back to that original agreement, he couldn't help but feel regret for it's resulting effects. He had no idea of knowing what else the white wizard had in store... and now his world was that much smaller for it, as was Eowyn's, and he was beginning to realize... she would have chosen death over this end... over him.
At this thought the goblet slipped from his shaking grasp, clattering to the table, before slamming against the stone floor, red wine staining the wood... he jumped startled, before moving away, a hand maid quickly coming to clean the mess and offer her apologies for not moving sooner.
He simply shook his head, dismissing her sentiments, running a hand through his dark hair. His eyes fell onto Eowyn's for a brief moment, his own blue ones vulnerable as they often were in her presence... then he fled. As quickly as possible, he swept the robes of his office about him tighter and left the hall, distancing himself as much as possible... his pale, sickly figure retreating through one of the doors into the dark hall beyond.