~*~*A/N: Yay for snow. A few things to you guys before the chapter….
--COBALT: Haha…seriously…that Wormtongue. Heartbreaker, love-taker…. And you're sort of right. Just…read and you'll see. ;)
--KITT-KATT: Yikes! Threats! Don't worry…this story is going to be updated at least once a day.
--ITHILWEN: Yeah, Éomer's voice is great. Glad you're enjoying this.
--TARA: Náwien is going to be safe from Enelya. Don't worry.
--RONDRAH: Yeah, Náwien isn't stupid at all. You'll see how different she is from Enelya. And there could be some more Náwien/Éomer action in the near future. ;) And have fun on your trip - you'll probably have a lot to read when you get back.
--RACHEL: Enelya is going to have some disappointment coming, you're right. And Wormtongue is kinna pervy, ain't he? LoL. I'm glad you liked the kiss - I loved writing it.
--KEYZA: Náwien does come off as the sweet, naïve type, but that's how I wanted her to appear to you all at first. And she'll redeem herself even more as this story continues.
--SHY: Éomer will have such an important part. Patience is a virtue.
--HATHOR: Me? A pervert? Haha. No way. I'm glad you're getting so into my story.
--K.C. HUNTER: Yeah, Enelya's really delusional. And I think you might be reading a bit too much Cosmo. ;)
--URUVIEL: Dark and mysterious, definitely!
--CARA: Glad you're enjoying, and thanks for reviewing!
Okay…here you go!
~*~
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Beyond Shattered
Náwien walked, as calmly as she could manage, from the Golden Hall, working to keep the blush from creeping up her cheekbones. She was sure that every man, woman, and child in Rohan could hear the pounding of her heart, for the sound rang in her ears as the blood rushed to them swiftly. She collected her sword from Háma's table, smiling politely at him, feeling the corners of her mouth turn up in a giddy, childish way. Náwien restrained herself from giggling uncontrollably, as she much desired to do, and untied her horse, ignoring the fact that her fingers trembled in an unchecked fashion. She was burning from Éomer's touch; her skin felt raw from where his stubble had been, only moments ago. Náwien raised a fragile hand to her mouth, feeling the drops of moisture still left upon her lips. She broke out in a grin, not caring if a passerby gave her odd looks. She was thrilled with the newfound feeling of her racing pulse; she loved every second that she felt as if her heart might burst from her ribcage. There was nothing she would change about her current state.
Still radiating, Náwien mounted her horse and took off for her house, thinking of the recent happenings. After she'd overcome her initial fear and self-doubt, she and Éomer had stood in the center of the room, locked in a fervent kiss for quite some time. Náwien could not place the strange warmth that flooded her body, or the way she desired his strong touch with such a passionate yearning, but the entire incident was over too quickly. Éomer broke away from her embrace, as if he was trying to protect her from himself. He'd told her that it would be best if she left, but Náwien saw the glimmer in his dark eyes. She knew that he actually wanted her to stay.
However, not to disrespect him, Náwien had left the Golden Hall, carrying the knowledge of his true emotions with her like a cross. She rode now, at full speed, towards her small home, wondering if her sister was awake from whatever ill spell had been holding her.
~*~
Éomer stood, alone, in a chamber to the side of the Throne Room, attempting to regain control of his breathing. Never before had he been so driven - so infatuated - by a woman. The feelings swarming through his body were entirely foreign to him, and he was terrified, as well as excited, by his newfound emotions.
He had told Náwien to leave only because he was afraid of what would happen if she did not do so. It was one thing to step into the river of temptation - it was another thing entirely to drown in it deliberately. Besides, something was telling him that any entanglement with his young student was only going to end in tragedy. But, unfortunately, Éomer, son of Éomund, was one to follow his heart, no matter what the end result may be.
~*~
Náwien dismounted her horse, dropping to her feet gracefully. She paused to tie her makeshift bandage tighter, grinning again at the small reminder of Éomer. Suddenly, the sound of hooves distracted her, and she glanced up to see Enelya riding towards her. Náwien raised her eyebrows; she did not even know that her sister had left the house.
"Where have you been?" Enelya asked, noting Náwien's horse.
"I was at the Golden Hall," Náwien answered, unable to keep the sheer happiness from her voice.
"Having a lesson?" her sister questioned, dismounting.
"Aye," Náwien replied, nodding slowly.
Enelya took a few steps closer to her, inspecting her glowing expression. Náwien's eyes flittered over her sister's face nervously, feeling as though she was completely transparent, and that Enelya could see right through her - right into her desires and emotions. It was, as if she was stripped of her skin and her heart was laid out on the ground for Enelya to read at her will. She lowered her gaze to the grass, unable to look her sister in the eye any longer.
"Do not tell me that you have become…romantic…with your instructor?" Enelya said. There was something in her tone that made Náwien's blood freeze, as if she knew a secret that Náwien did not. Her pause gave Enelya power, and she pressed on. "Náwien, answer me."
"What business is it of yours?" Náwien responded, afraid of what news her sister would bring regarding Éomer.
"So you are!" Enelya exclaimed, her deep blue eyes widening at this information. "Have you gone mad, Náwien?"
"What?" she gasped, confused.
Enelya shook her head, making a noise with her tongue against the roof of her mouth, as if she pitied Náwien.
"You cannot seriously think that Éomer cares for you," she said condescendingly.
"What would you know about it?" Náwien snapped, angry with Enelya for ruining her rare mood.
"Please, dear sister. I've been to the Golden Hall many times to visit Éowyn, and I've heard Éomer speak of you. Trust me…take my word for it…he does not have serious feelings for you."
"What has he said?" she asked wearily, knowing that she did not want to hear whatever Enelya was going to tell her.
Enelya laughed, as if there was anything funny about this situation.
"He has said that you have very little skill with the blade. He regrets giving you false hope, for he knows that you'll only end up slain in battle with the faith that he's put in you. He says you're foolish and naïve. And you do not have what it takes to ever become a Shield Maiden of Rohan."
Náwien's mouth was open in shock and she searched her sister's face for any signs that would indicate that she was lying, but found none. Enelya's features were set in a smooth and motionless position, and Náwien found that she could not recognize the woman staring at her.
"I am sorry," Enelya said, her voice kind and sympathetic, but her eyes blank. "I did not want to be the one to tell you this. I never knew that your feelings for him had grown to become serious."
Náwien closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound of Enelya's speech. How could she have not seen this? She was a fool to believe that Éomer was true to his words. She should have stayed with her original feelings; she always suspected that she was very much alone in her life. There wasn't anything behind her desire to become a Shield Maiden except her own dreams. She felt Enelya's hand close on her shoulder, but her empathy only flooded Náwien with nausea. She pushed away her touch intended for comfort and began walking away from her sister, ignoring her shouts after her. Náwien marched along the dirt path with no destination in mind. Anything to get away from Enelya's words - whether they held truth or not was irrelevant.
~*~
Náwien was not sure how long she'd walked, or how far, but the sun was low in the sky, and burned down on her tangled blonde hair. Despite the cool air, she felt feverishly warm, and could not rid her thoughts of what Enelya told her earlier that day. She kicked at a few rocks angrily, muttering incoherently under her breath. Her anger was divided unevenly between her sister, Éomer, and, mostly, herself. She wasn't used to letting her defenses down, and the feeling of being hurt the moment she let go was enough to keep her disheartened for a long while.
On a whim, Náwien drew her sword from the sheath at her hip, and held it in front of her steadily. She took in a deep breath, hearing Éomer's instructions echo in her mind, his deep voice floating through the air around her. Tears stung at her pale eyes, but she fought them off quickly, concentrating on the blade before her. Whispering counts underneath her breath, she swung out, whirling, imagining Éomer's sword clanging against her own. The silver metal sliced through the air, and the wind pressed upon the sharp blade, releasing thick whipping sounds. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound that her sword made in the breeze, and the rhythmic counts that she murmured aloud, unable to keep herself from wishing that it was Éomer's voice and not her own.
"You're quite talented."
Náwien's eyes snapped open and she gasped audibly at the sound of another person speaking. She was certain she was alone. Spinning 'round quickly, she sheathed her sword and staggered backwards at the sight of the man before her.
"Náwien, isn't it?"
Her eyes widened as she realized he knew her name. Who was this strange man that was speaking to her? His light blue eyes were mysteriously blank, and surrounded by a greenish haze, and his skin was of a feeble pale color. His lips were cracked and dry, and he was dressed in all black, save for a few shimmering chains around his neck. His hair was jet black, oily, and hung before his face in knots.
"Who are you?" she asked slowly, her hand comfortingly around the hilt of her sword.
"My name is Gríma," he introduced. "I am a friend of your sister's."
Náwien stared at him openly, confused. She'd never seen this man before, and there was something about him that made her extremely uneasy and repulsed. He noticed her expression, and continued, offering explanation for his presence.
"I was walking down the path," he said, "and I saw you with your blade. I must say, you are very skilled. Are you a Shield Maiden like Enelya?"
Náwien raised her eyebrows at his words. Skilled? Talented? A Shield Maiden? Was Gríma blatantly lying to her, or did he see something in her that everyone else failed to notice? She realized that he was waiting for an answer, and cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable.
"Nay, I am not a Shield Maiden," Náwien said regretfully. "I am learning the art of swordsmanship from Éomer, the Third Marshal of the Riddermark." As she said this, she felt a pang of sadness, recalling Enelya's statement from before.
"I see," he replied. "Well, Éomer has taught you well. You are lucky to have such a wonderful instructor."
He nodded to her slightly, and turned, walking off in the direction from whence he came. Náwien stared after him, and then shifted her gaze to her sword, looking at it with newfound hopes.
~*~
Éowyn ducked behind a nearby tree, avoiding to be seen by Wormtongue as he walked by. She'd been wandering the wild alone, pondering the current state of Rohan and Théoden, when she noticed Wormtongue talking with Náwien. She knew not what they spoke of, but she did not fail to miss the brief sputter of fear in her heart. Something was terribly wrong, she knew. And she wondered if it involved Wormtongue, or the Carnesir sisters…or both.
~*~*A/N: Okay. Just want to say this. Don't worry about Éomer and Náwien. It'll be okay.*~*~
--COBALT: Haha…seriously…that Wormtongue. Heartbreaker, love-taker…. And you're sort of right. Just…read and you'll see. ;)
--KITT-KATT: Yikes! Threats! Don't worry…this story is going to be updated at least once a day.
--ITHILWEN: Yeah, Éomer's voice is great. Glad you're enjoying this.
--TARA: Náwien is going to be safe from Enelya. Don't worry.
--RONDRAH: Yeah, Náwien isn't stupid at all. You'll see how different she is from Enelya. And there could be some more Náwien/Éomer action in the near future. ;) And have fun on your trip - you'll probably have a lot to read when you get back.
--RACHEL: Enelya is going to have some disappointment coming, you're right. And Wormtongue is kinna pervy, ain't he? LoL. I'm glad you liked the kiss - I loved writing it.
--KEYZA: Náwien does come off as the sweet, naïve type, but that's how I wanted her to appear to you all at first. And she'll redeem herself even more as this story continues.
--SHY: Éomer will have such an important part. Patience is a virtue.
--HATHOR: Me? A pervert? Haha. No way. I'm glad you're getting so into my story.
--K.C. HUNTER: Yeah, Enelya's really delusional. And I think you might be reading a bit too much Cosmo. ;)
--URUVIEL: Dark and mysterious, definitely!
--CARA: Glad you're enjoying, and thanks for reviewing!
Okay…here you go!
~*~
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Beyond Shattered
Náwien walked, as calmly as she could manage, from the Golden Hall, working to keep the blush from creeping up her cheekbones. She was sure that every man, woman, and child in Rohan could hear the pounding of her heart, for the sound rang in her ears as the blood rushed to them swiftly. She collected her sword from Háma's table, smiling politely at him, feeling the corners of her mouth turn up in a giddy, childish way. Náwien restrained herself from giggling uncontrollably, as she much desired to do, and untied her horse, ignoring the fact that her fingers trembled in an unchecked fashion. She was burning from Éomer's touch; her skin felt raw from where his stubble had been, only moments ago. Náwien raised a fragile hand to her mouth, feeling the drops of moisture still left upon her lips. She broke out in a grin, not caring if a passerby gave her odd looks. She was thrilled with the newfound feeling of her racing pulse; she loved every second that she felt as if her heart might burst from her ribcage. There was nothing she would change about her current state.
Still radiating, Náwien mounted her horse and took off for her house, thinking of the recent happenings. After she'd overcome her initial fear and self-doubt, she and Éomer had stood in the center of the room, locked in a fervent kiss for quite some time. Náwien could not place the strange warmth that flooded her body, or the way she desired his strong touch with such a passionate yearning, but the entire incident was over too quickly. Éomer broke away from her embrace, as if he was trying to protect her from himself. He'd told her that it would be best if she left, but Náwien saw the glimmer in his dark eyes. She knew that he actually wanted her to stay.
However, not to disrespect him, Náwien had left the Golden Hall, carrying the knowledge of his true emotions with her like a cross. She rode now, at full speed, towards her small home, wondering if her sister was awake from whatever ill spell had been holding her.
~*~
Éomer stood, alone, in a chamber to the side of the Throne Room, attempting to regain control of his breathing. Never before had he been so driven - so infatuated - by a woman. The feelings swarming through his body were entirely foreign to him, and he was terrified, as well as excited, by his newfound emotions.
He had told Náwien to leave only because he was afraid of what would happen if she did not do so. It was one thing to step into the river of temptation - it was another thing entirely to drown in it deliberately. Besides, something was telling him that any entanglement with his young student was only going to end in tragedy. But, unfortunately, Éomer, son of Éomund, was one to follow his heart, no matter what the end result may be.
~*~
Náwien dismounted her horse, dropping to her feet gracefully. She paused to tie her makeshift bandage tighter, grinning again at the small reminder of Éomer. Suddenly, the sound of hooves distracted her, and she glanced up to see Enelya riding towards her. Náwien raised her eyebrows; she did not even know that her sister had left the house.
"Where have you been?" Enelya asked, noting Náwien's horse.
"I was at the Golden Hall," Náwien answered, unable to keep the sheer happiness from her voice.
"Having a lesson?" her sister questioned, dismounting.
"Aye," Náwien replied, nodding slowly.
Enelya took a few steps closer to her, inspecting her glowing expression. Náwien's eyes flittered over her sister's face nervously, feeling as though she was completely transparent, and that Enelya could see right through her - right into her desires and emotions. It was, as if she was stripped of her skin and her heart was laid out on the ground for Enelya to read at her will. She lowered her gaze to the grass, unable to look her sister in the eye any longer.
"Do not tell me that you have become…romantic…with your instructor?" Enelya said. There was something in her tone that made Náwien's blood freeze, as if she knew a secret that Náwien did not. Her pause gave Enelya power, and she pressed on. "Náwien, answer me."
"What business is it of yours?" Náwien responded, afraid of what news her sister would bring regarding Éomer.
"So you are!" Enelya exclaimed, her deep blue eyes widening at this information. "Have you gone mad, Náwien?"
"What?" she gasped, confused.
Enelya shook her head, making a noise with her tongue against the roof of her mouth, as if she pitied Náwien.
"You cannot seriously think that Éomer cares for you," she said condescendingly.
"What would you know about it?" Náwien snapped, angry with Enelya for ruining her rare mood.
"Please, dear sister. I've been to the Golden Hall many times to visit Éowyn, and I've heard Éomer speak of you. Trust me…take my word for it…he does not have serious feelings for you."
"What has he said?" she asked wearily, knowing that she did not want to hear whatever Enelya was going to tell her.
Enelya laughed, as if there was anything funny about this situation.
"He has said that you have very little skill with the blade. He regrets giving you false hope, for he knows that you'll only end up slain in battle with the faith that he's put in you. He says you're foolish and naïve. And you do not have what it takes to ever become a Shield Maiden of Rohan."
Náwien's mouth was open in shock and she searched her sister's face for any signs that would indicate that she was lying, but found none. Enelya's features were set in a smooth and motionless position, and Náwien found that she could not recognize the woman staring at her.
"I am sorry," Enelya said, her voice kind and sympathetic, but her eyes blank. "I did not want to be the one to tell you this. I never knew that your feelings for him had grown to become serious."
Náwien closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound of Enelya's speech. How could she have not seen this? She was a fool to believe that Éomer was true to his words. She should have stayed with her original feelings; she always suspected that she was very much alone in her life. There wasn't anything behind her desire to become a Shield Maiden except her own dreams. She felt Enelya's hand close on her shoulder, but her empathy only flooded Náwien with nausea. She pushed away her touch intended for comfort and began walking away from her sister, ignoring her shouts after her. Náwien marched along the dirt path with no destination in mind. Anything to get away from Enelya's words - whether they held truth or not was irrelevant.
~*~
Náwien was not sure how long she'd walked, or how far, but the sun was low in the sky, and burned down on her tangled blonde hair. Despite the cool air, she felt feverishly warm, and could not rid her thoughts of what Enelya told her earlier that day. She kicked at a few rocks angrily, muttering incoherently under her breath. Her anger was divided unevenly between her sister, Éomer, and, mostly, herself. She wasn't used to letting her defenses down, and the feeling of being hurt the moment she let go was enough to keep her disheartened for a long while.
On a whim, Náwien drew her sword from the sheath at her hip, and held it in front of her steadily. She took in a deep breath, hearing Éomer's instructions echo in her mind, his deep voice floating through the air around her. Tears stung at her pale eyes, but she fought them off quickly, concentrating on the blade before her. Whispering counts underneath her breath, she swung out, whirling, imagining Éomer's sword clanging against her own. The silver metal sliced through the air, and the wind pressed upon the sharp blade, releasing thick whipping sounds. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound that her sword made in the breeze, and the rhythmic counts that she murmured aloud, unable to keep herself from wishing that it was Éomer's voice and not her own.
"You're quite talented."
Náwien's eyes snapped open and she gasped audibly at the sound of another person speaking. She was certain she was alone. Spinning 'round quickly, she sheathed her sword and staggered backwards at the sight of the man before her.
"Náwien, isn't it?"
Her eyes widened as she realized he knew her name. Who was this strange man that was speaking to her? His light blue eyes were mysteriously blank, and surrounded by a greenish haze, and his skin was of a feeble pale color. His lips were cracked and dry, and he was dressed in all black, save for a few shimmering chains around his neck. His hair was jet black, oily, and hung before his face in knots.
"Who are you?" she asked slowly, her hand comfortingly around the hilt of her sword.
"My name is Gríma," he introduced. "I am a friend of your sister's."
Náwien stared at him openly, confused. She'd never seen this man before, and there was something about him that made her extremely uneasy and repulsed. He noticed her expression, and continued, offering explanation for his presence.
"I was walking down the path," he said, "and I saw you with your blade. I must say, you are very skilled. Are you a Shield Maiden like Enelya?"
Náwien raised her eyebrows at his words. Skilled? Talented? A Shield Maiden? Was Gríma blatantly lying to her, or did he see something in her that everyone else failed to notice? She realized that he was waiting for an answer, and cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable.
"Nay, I am not a Shield Maiden," Náwien said regretfully. "I am learning the art of swordsmanship from Éomer, the Third Marshal of the Riddermark." As she said this, she felt a pang of sadness, recalling Enelya's statement from before.
"I see," he replied. "Well, Éomer has taught you well. You are lucky to have such a wonderful instructor."
He nodded to her slightly, and turned, walking off in the direction from whence he came. Náwien stared after him, and then shifted her gaze to her sword, looking at it with newfound hopes.
~*~
Éowyn ducked behind a nearby tree, avoiding to be seen by Wormtongue as he walked by. She'd been wandering the wild alone, pondering the current state of Rohan and Théoden, when she noticed Wormtongue talking with Náwien. She knew not what they spoke of, but she did not fail to miss the brief sputter of fear in her heart. Something was terribly wrong, she knew. And she wondered if it involved Wormtongue, or the Carnesir sisters…or both.
~*~*A/N: Okay. Just want to say this. Don't worry about Éomer and Náwien. It'll be okay.*~*~