Chapter Ten: Harsh Reality
Théodred was dead. The poison of the orc blades had finally claimed his life and he slipped quietly into the night. Éowyn, who had already consented herself to his fate, was resigned to keep her heart hard and her voice cold. Her face was void of expression; this was not her only grief. Her brother Éomer had returned to Edoras only hours before Théodred's passing and when she had told him of Wormtongue's endless haunting her, he had threatened death to Gríma before Théoden in his hall. For this he was imprisoned.
Éowyn watched as her cousin's body was carried from the room and felt a presence at her side. She turned to see Halbyn, dressed in the garb of a servant, her own clothes safely hidden among Éowyn's belongings. Even in this guise she had been under Wormtongue's suspicious gaze.
Gríma had clearly been agitated. He had madly swept through the Hall following the Ranger's arrival, and his sharp eyes had searched every corner for some clue as to the intruder he was certain was still present. After Théodred's death and Éomer's sentence, however, he had calmed considerably and decided himself safe in light of recent events. Indeed, he may have been right.
"Second Marshal of the Mark, slain upon the West Marches," Éowyn said, each word like ice. "Farewell cousin. Rohan shall soon join you."
"All hope is not lost," Halbyn whispered to her. "Have strength, my Lady."
"My strength will hold and carry me to my death, for I'll not stand idle while Rohan goes to ruin," Éowyn replied. "But do not speak of hope while there is no proof of its existence. I was foolish to believe your words two nights ago, but now I see they were spoken only in faith." The White Lady of Rohan looked at Halbyn and the Ranger saw beneath her hardness a sadness in her blue eyes. "Come," she commanded. "I must speak with my brother."
The two women walked swiftly through the Golden Hall, Halbyn two paces behind her mistress and her eyes cast to the floor. The dungeon guards stood aside for their Lady and she led Halbyn to a cell at the end of a long row. Inside sat a man and though he wore no armour and carried no weapon he was most certainly a warrior. The colour of his hair matched the gold upon his sister's head and his blue eyes were sharp and fierce. He had a strong build and when he stood to greet his sister Halbyn saw that he was taller than were most Men.
"Éowyn," he kissed her brow through the iron bars. "What news, sister?"
"Théodred is gone and Gríma is ever at our uncle's side," she said. "Even as they dig his grave Théoden will not leave the hall to see his son."
"These are ill tidings though I expected no less," Éomer frowned, clenching his fist at the mention of Wormtongue. He cast a curious look at Halbyn, who quickly averted her eyes, forgetting her place for a moment. "I've seen such eyes before," Éomer mused, "on a man great and proud. He wielded a sword of unparalleled magnificence and he called himself Aragorn son of Arathorn."
"Aragorn!" Halbyn cried before she could catch herself. "Where did you meet him?"
Éomer laughed - a sound that was uncommon to their surroundings. "I see I was right not to trust your disguise. My sister was never known to have a tending handmaiden. You are Dúnedain if I have ever seen one of your people. But I shall answer your question, Lady. I by chance met Aragorn and his companions two days past for they were traveling through the Eastmark."
"Then they are not far," Halbyn said. "Believe me when I say you bring good news, my Lord."
"What is this you speak of?" Éomer asked and Éowyn too turned her questioning gaze to the Ranger.
"It is Aragorn and his company Gandalf the Grey seeks before he turns his path to Edoras," she replied. "They are likely riding in this direction as we speak."
"It cannot be so - Gandalf the Grey is dead."
"Truly, my Lord, he is alive," Halbyn insisted. "He met me in the Golden Wood of Lórien and bade me ride before him and tell the Lady of Rohan of his coming."
"You have been to Lothlórien?" Éowyn looked at her in surprise. "This you never told me."
"It is by the Lady Galadriel that I still live," Halbyn said. "I was not certain this would be seen as friendly in your land though the Galadrim are allies to the enemies of the Dark Lord."
"You speak as strangely as did Aragorn himself," Éomer said. "But this is indeed good news. My heart is glad to hear of Gandalf's return. But even if they were to arrive this day, I would hardly call an Elf and a Dwarf a company. Worthy as the Lord Aragorn's companions are, we are in need of a great many more to see Rohan to freedom from Saruman's control."
Halbyn's face fell. "When we parted ways the company was eight - how is it there are three?"
"My apologies, Lady, I have spoken rashly," Éomer said gravely. "Boromir of Gondor was slain at the Falls of Rauros."
"Alas!" cried Halbyn. "Though we met only briefly I knew him to be a good man."
"As for the others of his company, I know not of their fate, only that Aragorn was tracking through Rohan a band of Uruks who he claimed had taken Halflings as prisoners," Éomer said.
Halbyn looked away. She remembered sensing Pippin's distress at the border of Fangorn and now understood the reason. Galadriel had been right to say that neither Halbyn nor Pippin's souls would find rest when they were apart.
"What is it, my friend?" Éowyn asked.
"Your tale is two days old," Halbyn turned back to Éomer. "Could it be that Aragorn has found those he sought?"
Éomer's face was grim. "The orcs were destroyed by my éored four days ago now. It was before we knew of their captives. We found no Halflings among the dead, for we burned every corpse." A long silence followed during which Halbyn let the information register. Éomer carefully studied the dark cloud that had passed over the Ranger's face. "I am truly sorry. I can see this grieves you most deeply."
"More than I could ever have known," she agreed, and then turned to Éowyn. "If you would allow it, my Lady, I wish to take my leave."
Éowyn nodded and Halbyn - keeping her eyes down - quickly passed the guards and left the dungeons. Éomer sighed heavily.
"She has lost somebody dear to her this day," he said sadly.
"Such is the very reason I shall never so foolishly give my heart to another," Éowyn's voice was hard.
"Your only weakness, Sister," Éomer replied.
The hot midday sun burned in the sky but was blocked by great grey clouds that shielded the Riddermark from its radiance. It was a fitting fate; many of the people of Rohan would not have known the beauty of its light, so long had they been without reason to enjoy it.
Halbyn sat at one of the numerous windows of Meduseld, but even she could no longer look past the shadow of hopelessness the clouds had cast over the land. She had her eyes closed and her head slightly bowed as she turned all consciousness inward and thought of nothing but Pippin.
She saw his innocent face and the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes and for a moment was in total wonder. She would never have believed that she could feel so strongly for somebody so different than herself, and yet she cared for the curly-haired young Hobbit more deeply than she could understand. For that, she would not rest until this war was over and she had dedicated every last ounce of strength to his memory in fighting the armies of the Dark Lord.
A thought occurred to her then as she opened her eyes and looked out across the plains of Rohan. If Pippin had truly died, then, if the Lady of Lórien was to be trusted, a part of her would have suffered the same fate. Her will to continue the fight, however, was testament to the hope that, somewhere, Peregrin Took was still alive.
The sound of a soft scuffling behind her put up her guard as the skills Aragorn had so well taught her overcame her thoughts. She did not turn around, suspecting that a true peasant handmaiden would not have been meant to notice the sound. The air became cold and she knew who was there even before she felt the icy steel press against her throat.
"Shouldn't you be working?" Wormtongue hissed into her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.
"I-"
"I am not fooled by you, girl," he interrupted her. "You knew I was there all along, did you not?" He moved his head around to look at her but she avoided his gaze and said nothing. "I know you did, and I will find out who you're working for - a spy of Gondor, perhaps? Tell me, girl."
Keeping the dagger close to her neck, Gríma clutched Halbyn's arm and turned her around with a strength she would never have guessed him to possess. The malicious smile on his face widened as his eyes wandered down her body and he licked his lips with his snakelike tongue. His grip tightened and her body tensed as he traced the blade point along her collarbone. Still, she kept quiet.
"No? It does not matter," he sneered. "Very soon there will be nothing any of you pathetic fools can do, and then I shall simply kill you myself."
He brought the blade up under her chin as he spoke, intending to pierce the soft skin there as a warning, but swifter than the great Anduin's current she caught his wrist and pushed the weapon between them. Even as he saw the newly kindled fire in her eyes, Wormtongue's heart danced with glee; this was all the evidence he needed to prove she was not whom she claimed. For that, he would kill her.
"Gríma!"
The twinkle in his eyes disappeared as Wormtongue heard his name called from down the corridor. A guard would not stand for the murder of a servant in cold blood, and the twits were far too noble to let him away with such an act. It would be the excuse they had been looking for to permanently rid Meduseld of his presence.
"What is going on here?"
Wormtongue jerked his wrist out of Halbyn's grasp and slipped the dagger into his sleeve as Gamling arrived at his side. Halbyn averted her eyes but not before glimpsing the newcomer's face and recognizing him as the old guard she had seen outside the wall the night of her arrival.
"I was merely speaking with this girl," Gríma's voice was saturated with false charm. "It seems she has forgotten where she is to be."
"I will handle this matter then," Gamling replied, "for you are to be in the throne room. Théoden King requests your presence."
Gríma's charm melted away at once as he stared at Gamling, obviously deciding whether or not he should obey the order, as he despised the thought of allowing the spy to live. His nostrils flared and he angrily cracked the knuckles of his bony fingers, but he held his treacherous tongue and stalked away after a last look at Halbyn.
"You would be wise to stay as far away from him as possible, girl," Gamling advised after watching to ensure Wormtongue had truly gone. "He is not one to be taken lightly."
"Thank you," Halbyn nodded and noticed especially the manner in which he addressed her. Though he had called her 'girl' - the same term used by Wormtongue - the guard's voice was much gentler and almost seemed protective.
"I am called Gamling," he continued. "If ever you require help you needn't hesitate to ask me or any of the guards. We are loyal to the King but our feelings toward Gríma are quite different. What his intentions are we still do not know but I am not surprised that he should stoop so low as to threaten the Lady's handmaiden."
"You are most kind and I shall remember your advice," she smiled finally though she avoided his eyes.
Gamling watched the girl for a moment. He had wondered if he should ask if she had been hurt, but stopped himself before he began. There was something strange about her that he could not place. He thought that perhaps it was the way she held herself - much straighter than any peasant woman he had seen, most of whom had been bent under the hard labour of the lower class. He'd noticed also her arms when he'd first come upon the pair as especially peculiar. It was not uncommon for servants to be strongly built, but the lean muscle structure of her forearms was a distinct trait of one skilled with a sword.
"Sir?"
Gamling was brought out of his thoughts and turned at the voice to see a young soldier walking in his direction. "What is it, Éothain?"
"Erkenbrand seeks your council," the man called Éothain replied. "Théoden King wishes to mount a second defense at the Fords of Isen and will likely send him to lead."
"I will come," Gamling said, though his face showed reluctance. He turned back to Halbyn and said, "Be safe," before taking his leave down the corridor. Éothain looked from Gamling to the handmaiden, furrowed his eyebrows and then followed the old soldier on his way.
Halbyn turned back to the window in relief. She had thought for certain that Gamling had guessed the truth and she would be tossed alongside Éomer in the dungeon for spying. She wondered if he would have been so hasty though, as he seemed reasonable enough to listen to her story. Still, Gandalf had warned her to reveal herself only to the Lady Éowyn.
She considered then what she had just heard from the guards. Éowyn had told her that Théodred had led the last defense at the Fords of Isen and for that he had lost his life. She could understand Gamling's hesitation toward another battle, however inevitable. They were losing countless good men to futile campaigns and their spirits fell with every death at the hands of the Dark Armies.
"Gandalf," Halbyn looked with fading hope to the horizon. "Where are you?"
"I was afraid of this," Éowyn sighed. Halbyn had just recounted her confrontation with Wormtongue. "Nothing stays hidden from his snake eyes for long. I have often wondered whence he came about this power."
"He is not a wizard then?" Halbyn asked.
"Nothing more than a man and only just that," the other shook her head. "Your tale of Saruman's betrayal becomes all the more likely and I do not doubt that the White Wizard bestowed this cunning spy with magic of his own creation."
"To advise the King in weakening his armies and mistrusting his kinsmen. The peril here is greater than I first thought."
The two had taken refuge in Éowyn's chambers but were careful still to keep their voices hushed in fear that Gríma would be listening at a chink in the wall. The sun was now disappearing beyond the Misty Mountains and both women knew such a vile creature would be more comfortable skulking in the shadows after dark.
"Erkenbrand is a great warrior. If we should lose him as we did Théodred, I wonder if we shall stand any chance against the coming Darkness, even with Gandalf at our side."
"The battalion has already been sent?" said Halbyn.
"They move out at first light, for all the good it will do. The line was barely held last time," Éowyn was getting irritated at the thought. "O! If I could will them to bring the battle here I would for then I could feel of use in fighting rather than waiting for defeat."
Halbyn had no reply, wanting to offer a positive thought but wishing herself to be elsewhere. She looked longingly at the oaken chest in which her weapons had been safely hidden and she yearned to once again feel the hilt of her sword in her hands.
"Lady Éowyn," she said, breaking the silence, "I am of no more use here. You are strong, but now that Gríma Wormtongue knows me you may be in danger should he try again to attack me."
"This is true," Éowyn regretfully admitted. "What do you suggest?"
Halbyn frowned for a moment while she ordered her thoughts. "You must try and convince the King that sending another battalion would be useless. If Saruman and Gríma are truly conspiring, as we suspect, then I do not think they shall wait for much longer before making their move. With the Dark Lord steadily gaining power and a crippled Rohan-"
"I dare not think of it," Éowyn shook her head. "We cannot afford to lose any more men. I shall do all I can to keep Erkenbrand in Edoras."
Halbyn moved away from the cold stone of the wall she'd been leaning against and went to the window, gazing out at the multitude of colours fading from the sky as the last shards of light glimmered in the west. "Dusk is upon us. I shall leave the Hall tonight and search for some sign of my Lord Aragorn's coming. Should I discover anything, I will find a way to contact you."
Éowyn opened the enormous chest and quickly sifted through her clothing and belongings until she found the bundle of garments concealed near the bottom. These she passed to Halbyn and said, "You will be wanting these, my friend. It will be easier to slip from a window unnoticed in the garb of your people than that of a handmaiden." Halbyn smiled as she accepted her clothes; though she had only worn it a day she despised the disguise and was eager to rid herself of it.
As the Ranger swiftly changed her attire, Éowyn pulled the door open a crack and peered into the corridor. "Not a soul is about," she relayed. "Now is the time to move. I will go to the main hall; Gríma will be distracted and will not notice you leave."
Halbyn finished dressing and fastened the Lórien cloak around her shoulders. "Please, if I cannot convince you of anything else I must ask you not to give up hope. All is not yet lost."
Éowyn looked as though she might say something, but in a heartbeat her features hardened and she was again like stone. "Go now," she said as she returned the Ranger's blade and bow. "We haven't time to waste."
Halbyn recognized the coldness in the other woman's manner and felt her stomach tighten with worry, though even now she knew better than to openly second-guess the Shield Maiden of Rohan. She accepted her weapons with a nod and wordlessly slipped out the window into the shadows of night. Éowyn's gaze lingered on the dark opening for a moment before she pulled her chamber door open again and made her way to the main hall.