Author's Note:
I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the existing characters from Lord of the Rings, including Grima Wormtongue. Daemira is an original creation and is owned by Grace Reynolds (me).
The small boy sat near the window, his sad blue eyes gazing out at the vast plains of Rohan which seemed to spread out forever and shift up into the mountains. The firelight from the small house's interior played against his pale, pasty skin and thick mop of black hair as it danced over the quickly disintegrating wood. He let out several nasty coughs which were followed by a spurt of blood from his lungs. Living from day to day had become an intense agony for the boy. Each day became worse and worse until, even at age ten, he was almost ready to die.
A book rest on his lap, turned to his favorite legend of Middle Earth: The Legend of the Flame Rider. Hours each day he spent reading the story over and over, and at times it helped him to ignore his pain. He was captivated by the painting which depicted the Flame Rider. A beautiful elfish woman completely dressed in black on a steed that walked on a cloud of flame. The boy wondered what it must be like to wander freely and without bond to any tribe or nation; to be free of responsibility and pain. Sometimes he wished he could strike out and live like her, but he knew that his current condition made that impossible.
The pale moonlight shimmered down onto the waving grasses beyond Edoras, and the boy took in the lovely cool breeze that kissed his face gently, slightly relieving the burning of his forehead. He placed his head on the sill, his eyes still focused on the vast plains ahead. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something. A small glimmer of light. He turned his head so that he could see more clearly, and was almost amazed by what he saw. It was a line of fire; as if a trail of burning feet were walking on the plains. He squinted to get a better look, and saw that at the head of the trail was a dark horse. It seemed as though the horse's hooves were making the fire. The boy's heart leapt. Could it be? No, it was impossible...but...perhaps a little look...
Trying to be as quiet as his frail body would allow, he slid out through the window and plopped to the ground. He cupped his hand over his mouth to drown out the small whine which accompanied the pain to his rear. Giving a careful look around, he stood up and started to creep towards the large wooden fence surrounding the city.
He had to be especially careful around the animal fences. Sheep, pigs, and especially dogs tended to get excited when someone was about at night, so he tried as best as he could to not rile them up. He crept past the last house, almost to the fence, but a deep growl startled him. The dog watching guard stared at him out of glowing yellow eyes, focused and unmoving from the boy's face. His heart sped up, and he took several extremely slow steps away from the animal, just enough to get out through a loose board in the fence and away from the animal's line of sight.
Heaving a huge sigh of relief, he began to trudge through the waving grasses of the plains towards the line of fire. He couldn't think of anything that could possibly cause such a phenomenon. Surely the elders of the village would have discussed any clearing of grasses; the old couple who cared for him would always discuss any nightly occurrences, even if they were just chores. But nothing had been said, so the boy had only his imagination to guide him.
The cold wind lashed at his frail limbs and blew his hair wildly about his face, and he suddenly wished he had brought a cloak. But he was too far out to turn back now. He had started out on this little quest and was determined to see it through to the end. He paused and let out another series of horrid coughs, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth as it spurted forth. His chest ached with a terrible pain and he had to pause in order to catch his breath. The flames were almost in front of him. He had to hurry if he was to get any look at their source.
Minutes passed, and slowly, he made progress. By now he could clearly see that it was indeed a horse at the head of the flames, and his stomach became fluttery at the prospect of possibly seeing the rider. His excitement got the best of him, and he quickened his pace. Almost...almost...please...
A sudden growl from nearby made him halt. He looked about, trying to see what had made the noise. He didn't see anything...not even the shimmering moonlight revealed anything odd to him. Perhaps he was just hungry. That's it. It was his rumbling stomach he'd heard. Another sound quite similar, and another, and another told his mind otherwise. He looked around once more, fear welling up inside him; this time, he saw them. Wolves. Six of them, all staring at him, hungrily, teeth bared. The fear continued to build inside the boy's chest, and he found himself frozen. He tried to take one step. Two. Three. The wolves moved with him, their legs coiled, ready to pounce. The fear finally exploded out of the boy's mouth and he took off running, as fast as he could, despite the immediate and horrendous pain from his lungs. He screamed, hoping to get the attention of someone who might come to his rescue, but all too quickly, his body gave out. He stumbled to the ground, the wolves forming a circle around him, licking their lips and preparing for the final strike. Tears streamed from the boy's eyes as he realized that his death was going to come sooner than he thought, and not at the hands of the disease.
A wolf to his left crouched forward a few paces, preparing to lunge. The boy heard a sound like thunder, but mistook it for his own pounding heart. The wolf sprung forward; the boy ducked down, hiding his face...but the wolf did not strike him. Instead, he heard the wolf shriek in pain. He looked up in time to see the wolf go flying over the others and land hard on the far side of the circle. It got to its feet and began hobbling away in fear. The boy's head whipped around and saw a mighty black horse towering above him, steam blasting from its nostrils. The other wolves immediately charged, leaping at the great steed, trying to attack, but the animal reared up on its hind legs and let out a sound like that of a dragon. A single swing from the horse's rider with a long dark staff sent every single wolf flying in every direction, and landing uncomfortably on the ground. Those that got up ran away, whimpering. Those that didn't...well, their fate was obvious.
The horse settled back down on all fours and let out a loud snuff as if to say "And don't come back!" The boy was far too frightened to take his eyes off of the creature, but even more frightened when its rider jumped down from the saddle and began to approach him. The person was very tall, taller than anyone in Edoras. The face was hidden under a heavy black hood and the boy found himself wondering if this person was even human. He instinctively scooted back a little when the rider kneeled before him.
"What are you doing out so far at night, little one?" The voice that came out was like satin; smooth, rich, and very soothing. The boy couldn't help but stare; this person was a woman. A pair of moon-white hands came out from under the cloak and withdrew the hood. The old woman had said that the boy saw things that many people didn't; and what he saw now he could clearly define as true and unequalled beauty. Her face was oval- shaped and well-defined; it was faultless, with high cheekbones, a lovely slightly upturned nose, and full, voluptuous crimson lips. But the most striking trait was her eyes. They were very large with long eyelashes and clear orbs of the darkest gray imaginable; like that of an impending storm. Her pupils were cat-like slits; frightening, but oddly beautiful. Her hair was long; flowing below her hips, and was the color of black night. If it weren't for the ethereal glow cascading down from the moon, and shimmering across the silky tresses, the boy would only be able to see her face. Even though he was only a child, he knew that this woman was the most exquisite thing he would ever see. He simply stared, unable to move or speak; he might as well have been hypnotized.
The woman smiled, revealing pearl-white teeth. "Are you alright? Did those creatures harm you?"
The boy shook his head. "No..." he managed to say.
"That is good..." She tilted her head to the side. "What is your name?"
The boy cleared his throat. "Grìma," he answered.
"Are you from Edoras, Grìma?"
He nodded, but was suddenly overcome by a fit of coughs.
'This child is ill,' the woman thought as she observed the boy. She caught sight of the blood starting to dribble down the corner of his mouth. 'No, he is dying.'
She took off her cloak and draped it over his small shoulders. "The night is cold," she said. "And you are very sick. You should not be out. I shall take you home." She stood up, leaned over, and scooped the small child up into her arms. Oddly, Grìma felt safe there. As she carried him over to the horse, he took notice of her ears. She was an elf, though not like any he'd ever heard of. She sat him on the giant horse's saddle and jumped up behind him. She took the reins in one hand, and wrapped the other around Grìma so as to make sure he didn't fall.
"She is very fast, but don't worry. I've got you."
Grìma grabbed a hold of the arm that held him and the woman set the horse in motion. The sudden rush of air against his face caught him by surprise and he gasped in alarm. The distance to Edoras was closing insanely fast. Grìma had never before seen a horse so quick. He looked down to see the animal's feet. What he saw both shocked and amazed him. Bright flashes of fire, like that which issues from the striking of flint, were dancing under the hooves. He twisted around to look behind them and could see the straight line of flame that burned on the dry grasses. If he hadn't been so enthralled, he would have shrieked with joy. The thing he'd seen across the plains was this woman and her horse! But...could that also mean that...
They suddenly slowed down to a prance and then to a steady walk. The woman jumped off of the horse, took the reins and led it through the gates of Edoras.
"Where is your house?" she asked.
Grìma pointed to a quaint little home not too far away from the gates. The woman continued to lead the horse through the main street and stopped in front of the small structure. Immediately, the door swung open and the old woman and old man came out, looks of worry on their faces.
"Grìma!" the old woman exclaimed. The old man approached the horse and lifted Grìma off of the saddle. He looked at the young elfish woman, who stood with the horse, with wide-eyed wonder.
"Thank you so much for finding him!" the old woman exclaimed. "We had thought the worst..."
The elf bowed. "No need, my lady."
"Are you all right, son?" the old man asked. Grìma nodded and let out more coughs.
"Oh, you need your medicine," the old woman said. She looked to the elf and smiled. "Please, dear, come inside! It's awfully cold. Come warm yourself by the fire. You can leave your horse in our stable."
"Thank you, but I do not mean to intrude," the elf said.
"No intrusion at all!" the old man exclaimed. "You saved our little boy. We wish to repay you." He handed Grìma to the old woman and took the reins of the horse. "I'll put her away for you. You go on inside."