~*~*A/N: So I just had another great idea for a new story…but I think I'll wait until I finish this one. If I start my new fic, I'll never finish this Wormtongue one, and then you'll all kill me. Which wouldn't be good. So here you go.

-GRACE: I agree!!!!!!!! You are so unbelievably right. OC's are not necessarily Mary-Sue's.

-TARA: Glad you like.

-RACHEL: Oh, Gríma will have some more evil'ness, I promise. And…yes…pervy. ;)

-HATHOR: Dying of curiosity? Hope you don't kick it before the story's finished! Hehe.

-K.C. HUNTER: Meeble? Is that a good thing?

-RONDRAH: Yep, you smell the fight too? And I am a New Yorker, as it says in my Bio. Also, if you want to email me some of the story that you write, go right ahead, and I will give you my honest opinion and advice. Mary-Sue's don't have to be bad.

-COBALT: I'm with you…I'd take Wormtongue to Leggy any day. And I'm glad I've got your muse going.

-SUNFALLING: Thank you. I'm very happy you're enjoying this.

-LADY OF NONE: Yeah, wouldn't be happy if I had a sister who wigged out like that either. And Éomer rocks my world as well. Hehe.


Here's some more!



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



CHAPTER ELEVEN: Sunrise with No Avail



Éowyn walked slowly through the stone halls, wondering whom her brother had been yelling at earlier. She had spent most of the evening in the Throne Room, kneeling by her uncle's side, wishing that there was something she could do to bring him back to his former glory. However, if he was under some sort of wicked spell, there was nothing she would be able to do to cure him, for she knew not any Elvish magic or wizardry. All Éowyn could do was dare to hope.

"Éomer?" she called, stepping into a small room to find her brother sitting in a chair by himself, looking deep in thought. He looked up upon hearing her voice, and nodded to her in greeting.

"I thought you would be asleep," Éomer said, noticing the gown that she still wore from earlier that day.

"I cannot even swallow the thought of sleep," Éowyn answered. "Every time I close my eyes, I am afraid that something terrible will happen while I rest. I feel as if it is my duty to keep watch over Rohan…to do what Théoden cannot." She paused. "From what I see, it seems as though you cannot sleep either."

Éomer sighed and stood to face her.

"Nay, I will not find rest here tonight."

"Who were you talking with before?" Éowyn questioned, bringing up the real reason she sought his company. "I heard you raising your voice."

"I was speaking to Náwien," Éomer replied. "She came by the Golden Hall looking for her sister."

"Enelya?" Éowyn said in confusion. "But she was not here tonight."

"I know," he stated. "Náwien rode to the borders in search of Enelya, hoping that she was not taken by Orcs."

"The borders?!"

"Aye."

"Has she gone absolutely mad?" Éowyn cried, her eyes wide in disbelief. "If Náwien had been ambushed by Orcs, she would have been slain without a--"

"That is exactly what I told her," Éomer interrupted. "She, in turn, grew cross with me. I do not blame her; I suppose I gave her the wrong impression by mistake the last time that she visited me for a lesson."

"I told you that you were wrong to give her false hope!" Éowyn chided.

"And you were right," he admitted ruefully. "By telling her such things, I jeopardized her life. If Náwien had been killed tonight by the Orcs, I don't know what I would do with myself. It would have been my fault."

"Nay, my brother, do not torture yourself with that game," Éowyn said, approaching him to place a hand on his arm. "If Náwien had been hurt tonight, it would have been a tragedy, but it did not happen. There is no use wasting precious time with foolish questions of 'what if' that cannot be answered."

Éomer nodded, knowing that she was correct. She pressed on.

"Let us just be thankful that nothing happened to Náwien tonight," Éowyn continued. "The only thing you can do is make sure that you do not give her any more wrong ideas in the future. You are her teacher, Éomer. You are supposed to guide her and help her become wise."

Éomer nodded, her words weighing him down with guilt. He knew that it wasn't truly his fault, but her tone inflicted feelings of remorse upon him.

"Did Náwien ever find Enelya?" Éowyn asked, changing the subject quickly, as she caught on to her brother's emotions.

"I do not know," Éomer answered honestly. "She left before I could advise her on where to look,"

Éowyn frowned, wondering where her friend could have disappeared.

"If she was here," she said slowly, "we didn't notice. But there is someone who can tell us for sure."

Éomer followed her out into the hallway in confusion. Where was she leading him?

~*~

Háma sighed, standing underneath a stone ledge to keep him dry in the rain. Part of him would like to retreat to the warmth of the Golden Hall, but, as the only guard awake, he knew his duty to the King. And Wormtongue would have his head if he left the doors open for attack. Háma knew there was nothing to do besides brave the stormy weather and bitter cold as he had been doing for many nights.

Suddenly, the doors behind him opened, and he turned, surprised to see Lady Éowyn and her brother Éomer venture out into the night beside him. Háma bowed on instinct, and then raised his head, curious as to what lead them outside at such an hour.

"Were there any visitors this evening?" Éowyn asked him.

"Two, my Lady," Háma answered. "A young girl, most recently, and one of your friends, Éowyn."

Éowyn and Éomer shared a look, and she turned, looking at her brother with a look as if to say, "I knew it!"

"Is it Enelya that you speak of?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.

"I believe so," Háma said with a nod.

"What time did she come to the Golden Hall?"

"It was a few hours ago, my lady. But she did not remove her weapon when I gave my command, and she pushed past me and barged through the doors without warning."

"What would cause her to do such a thing?" Éomer wondered aloud, his dark eyes widening in surprise. Éowyn shook her head slowly, miffed by the news that Háma bore.

"And how did she come into the Golden Hall without us knowing about it?" she questioned, her eyes flittering to slits as she pondered this mystery.

"What business would she want here if she didn't come to see you?" Éomer added, frowning.

They both turned to Háma, who shrugged.

"Do not look to me for answers," he said. "I know nothing of this matter."

"Come," Éomer suggested, gesturing towards the doors with a jerk of his head. "Perhaps we can look for answers inside. There must be someone who saw her after she entered the Hall."

"Thank you for your assistance," Éowyn said to Háma, as she and her brother turned to walk back into the Royal House.

"I could only wonder who…."

Éomer trailed off as he caught sight of a large shadow across the wall. He narrowed his eyes, seeing Gríma Wormtongue shuffle through the hallway.

"It appears as though we've found our informer."

Éowyn's face twisted in disgust; she could not take the sight of Wormtongue. She despised him with every fiber of her being.

"Gríma," Éomer called loudly, catching his attention. Slowly, Wormtongue turned, his pale blue eyes frosting over with an emotion that was unreadable as he caught sight of Éomer and Éowyn approaching him.

"Have you seen my friend, Enelya?" Éowyn asked, making sure not to let any friendliness slip into her voice.

"Enelya?"

"Aye. She is a Shield Maiden like myself."

Wormtongue flicked his gaze over Éowyn's face, letting his stare linger for a moment too long, knowing that his presence made her completely uncomfortable. Éowyn returned the stare for a few seconds, before faltering, and she looked down at the floor.

"I cannot say that I've seen her," Wormtongue answered finally. "But I shall keep an eye open. Or both eyes, if you'd rather."

Without another word, Wormtongue turned, and continued down the hall.

"Was he lying to us?" Éomer asked, his voice soft but his tone dark.

"I do not doubt it."

~*~

Enelya lay in bed, staring, wide-awake at the ceiling. Her mouth felt dry, and her eyes were raw and burning. Aside from those minor annoyances, she felt wonderful. The rains had trickled to a soft, misty shower, and the sun let its soft white rays down on the city of Rohan. But, as she had predicted, the feelings of darkness never left her heart. She would not return to her former thoughts and ways. She was done troubling with the world of good, for it offered nothing to her but failure. Wormtongue had opened up an entire new life to her, and she accepted it now, without any other considerations. The old Enelya was dead. It was time for the new Enelya to rise.