TRAPPED
Gríma had been the High Councillor of Théoden King for three months to the day. Each passing day, the King placed more and more trust unto Gríma's words. Many of the people of the court wondered at this change, but there was no doubt that Gríma Wormtongue was high in the King's favour. This did not really stay their taunting, but on the whole, Gríma's life had improved, particularly as Théoden had begun to look upon him as a friend as well as a councillor.
It was one day when Gríma had finished his duties and the King had excused him from his presence, that Gríma stood outside in the fresh cool air on the platforms of Meduseld, watching some of the Riders of Rohan retreating horses as they left to do battle on the borders of Rohan. They were Éomer and some of his men. Gríma wondered vaguely how many of them would return, when a small soft sob told him he was not alone. Turning sharply, he saw that Éowyn was standing a few feet away with tears running down her cheeks.
"Why, my Lady!" he exclaimed anxiously. "Whatever is the matter?"
"Always, they leave me here", she said in a voice that was barely audible, he eyes riveted to the distant steeds of the Riders on the horizon. "Always, they leave me here to watch and wait. They do not know how much I fear for them. How much I would give to be with them."
"Yes of course.", Gríma muttered with a sudden realization, and came swiftly to her side. Caught by the tone of his voice, she turned to him curiously. "You are imprisoned here, are you not, my Lady?" he asked, taking her hand. "Imprisoned by your duties as a woman. You wish to go to war, do you not? But they will not permit you to. They are fools...", he whispered into her ear. "They underestimate you.what you are capable of." Éowyn looked up into his eyes in wonder. Gríma raised his hand to her cheek and caressed it.
"I know your pain", he said gently. "You are trapped in the cage that is your gender and I am trapped in the cage that is my form. We are the same, you and I..."
She closed her eyes, almost comforted. But when she felt his hair on her face, she snapped them open in alarm, and staggered backwards, freeing herself from his embrace. "You cannot understand me", she whispered. "How can you hope to understand me when I am beyond the comprehension of my own kin? Leave me alone!"
And with that, she hastened back inside with a stifled sob, leaving Gríma standing alone.
TO BE CONTINUED
Gríma had been the High Councillor of Théoden King for three months to the day. Each passing day, the King placed more and more trust unto Gríma's words. Many of the people of the court wondered at this change, but there was no doubt that Gríma Wormtongue was high in the King's favour. This did not really stay their taunting, but on the whole, Gríma's life had improved, particularly as Théoden had begun to look upon him as a friend as well as a councillor.
It was one day when Gríma had finished his duties and the King had excused him from his presence, that Gríma stood outside in the fresh cool air on the platforms of Meduseld, watching some of the Riders of Rohan retreating horses as they left to do battle on the borders of Rohan. They were Éomer and some of his men. Gríma wondered vaguely how many of them would return, when a small soft sob told him he was not alone. Turning sharply, he saw that Éowyn was standing a few feet away with tears running down her cheeks.
"Why, my Lady!" he exclaimed anxiously. "Whatever is the matter?"
"Always, they leave me here", she said in a voice that was barely audible, he eyes riveted to the distant steeds of the Riders on the horizon. "Always, they leave me here to watch and wait. They do not know how much I fear for them. How much I would give to be with them."
"Yes of course.", Gríma muttered with a sudden realization, and came swiftly to her side. Caught by the tone of his voice, she turned to him curiously. "You are imprisoned here, are you not, my Lady?" he asked, taking her hand. "Imprisoned by your duties as a woman. You wish to go to war, do you not? But they will not permit you to. They are fools...", he whispered into her ear. "They underestimate you.what you are capable of." Éowyn looked up into his eyes in wonder. Gríma raised his hand to her cheek and caressed it.
"I know your pain", he said gently. "You are trapped in the cage that is your gender and I am trapped in the cage that is my form. We are the same, you and I..."
She closed her eyes, almost comforted. But when she felt his hair on her face, she snapped them open in alarm, and staggered backwards, freeing herself from his embrace. "You cannot understand me", she whispered. "How can you hope to understand me when I am beyond the comprehension of my own kin? Leave me alone!"
And with that, she hastened back inside with a stifled sob, leaving Gríma standing alone.
TO BE CONTINUED
