The company rode swiftly across the open country of Rohan toward Edoras, where King Théoden resided in the Golden Hall.
Edoras was surprisingly one of the gloomiest places Soriel had ever laid eyes on. No one smiled or even spoke. Not even the children laughed or played. Soriel was inwardly thankful she would not be raising her child here. They quickly arrived at the Hall. However, before they could go in, they were stopped by a man named Hama.
"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed," he said. "By order of Grima Wormtongue." His sigh as he said the name gave away his disgust of the man.
The Company agree to this. Aragorn requested that no one else touch Andúril, though, and placed it outside himself. Gimli hesitated only a moment before giving up his axe. Leila and Legolas willingly handed over their things. Then they turned to Gandalf.
"Your staff," Hama said.
"Oh," Gandalf protested. "You would not part an old man from his walking stick."
Hama seemed conflicted for a moment, but his softer side won, and he allowed Gandalf to pass with the staff. They entered the Hall.
Soriel was shocked by King Théoden's state. He looked aged far beyond his years. His back was hunched over, and it was unlikely that he could see out of his clouded eyes.
"He looks awful," Leila whispered to Soriel, who could only nod in agreement.
Gandalf started to approach the king. As he did so, the Company was being carefully watched by a group of rough-looking men, who could have been soldiers, but looked fouler. Soriel felt worry begin to stir in her chest.
"The courtesy of your Hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf said.
"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" Théoden returned weakly.
"A just question, my liege," said a greasy haired man who had been at Théoden's side.
"Ugh," Leila accidentally said aloud, and Soriel almost laughed. The man was rather unpleasant to behold.
"Late is the hour in which this conjuror chooses to appear," the greasy man continued. "Ill news is an ill guest."
"Be silent," Gandalf snapped, pointing his staff in the man's face. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth."
"His staff," the man said, and Soriel understood that this must be Grima Wormtongue. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"
At Wormtongue's command, his soldiers went for Gandalf. Aragorn and the others sprang into action to protect him. The wizard got closer to the king, freeing his mind from the control of Saruman. When all Wormtongue's soldiers were out of the way, the watched Gandalf. Gimli held Grima.
While Gandalf worked on the king, a striking young lady clad in white entered the hall. She evidently thought that Gandalf was hurting Théoden, for she started toward him. Aragorn grabbed her and told her to wait. Wide eyed and worried, she obeyed.
At last, Théoden was saved. He returned to himself physically and mentally. Aragorn released the woman and she ran to the king, catching him in her arms. Théoden now looked his age, but also a little confused. Then he laid eyes on the woman.
"I know your face," he said. "Éowyn."
They beamed at one another and she released a small laugh of joy before embracing him. When they let go of one another, the king looked around again.
"Fingers would remember their old strength better," Gandalf said. "If they grasped their sword."
Hama approached along with another man. The other man got on bended knee and offered Théoden his sword. He took it and then instructed the man to stand. To everyone's surprise, it was Éomer, the marshal of the Rohirrim they had met when they first arrived in Rohan. He had returned to Edoras to report meeting Aragorn and the Company, but was placed under arrest by Wormtongue. After he was restored with honor, he moved to stand with Éowyn, and on his way, he once again locked eyes with Soriel. This time, he offered her a charming smile. She quickly looked away.
The king meanwhile banished Grima from Rohan. Soriel and Leila noticed the look of immense relief on Éowyn's face as Grima rode away and out of Edoras. Théoden rose to his full height.
"Where is Théodred?" he suddenly asked as if he only just remembered he had a son at all. "Where is my son?" The second question had the urgent concern in it. Éowyn and Éomer exchanged solemn glances.
It was revealed that the prince was killed by orcs. Théoden wept and retired to his son's chambers. He was not seen for the rest of the day. Soriel's heart went out to him. If her baby died, she would feel exactly the same way.
A funeral was held for the prince the following morning. Théodred was laid to rest among his forefathers. Théoden once again did not leave his son's side, even long after the ceremony was over.
After the funeral, Soriel returned to her chambers in Meduseld. On her way, she heard a small sob coming from a room down the hall. She followed it. Through a crack in the door, she saw Éomer, openly grieving for his cousin. It was strange for Soriel to see, as the man she had met out in the country had been so hard and intimidating. A sympathetic urge possessed her, and she knocked lightly on the door. He looked up and waved her inside.
With a light push of the door she entered the room. It felt odd to be in a man's bedroom, but this was not something shameful. She looked upon this Lord of Rohan with eyes of understanding and sorrow. Without invitation she sat down next to him, but he did not send her away. With yet another act of uncharacteristic bravery, she took his hand.
"I am familiar with your pain," she said. "I know how difficult it is to lose one you love. Would you like to talk?"
Éomer immediately opened up. "Théodred and I were more like brothers than cousins. We were raised together, along with Éowyn of course. It just feels like a gaping wound right in my heart."
"I understand," she said. "Grief often feels like a newly opened window, and a cold blast of wind catches you off guard. And yet, you cannot seem to close it again."
"I felt the same with my mother and father died," he agreed. "The window closed, but once in a while it springs open again and surprises you."
She looked at him. "You have suffered a great deal. When did you lose your parents?"
"Long ago, when I was only a child," he told her. "Éowyn hardly remembers them."
"I'm so sorry," she said.
He gave her hand a squeeze. "What about you?"
She looked down at her lap. "My lover. That window is still very much open."
"I'm sorry too," he said. "I find grief is best defeated with company."
"I do too," she said, and looked back up at him. "Are you feeling better now?"
He nodded. "Yes, thank you. And you?"
"I am," she said "I am glad I spoke to you. The rest of my company has not been able to relate to me this way."
"I am glad you came to me as well," he replied. There was a beat before he continued. "Will you remain in Edoras long?"
"That remains to be seen," she said.
"Well, I hope you will," he said.
She released his hand. "We shall see." She got to her feet, and he followed suit.
"I do not wish to offend," he said, trying to recover. "I know you love another."
"There is no offense," she assured him. "But I must go to my friends now. We will be making plans soon and I was hoping from here I could ride to Minas Tirith."
"Minas Tirith?" he questioned.
"Well, I apologize for becoming so personal so quickly, but I am with child," she said. "The father was from Minas Tirith and I must get to his family."
"I wish you the best of luck," he said, and he seemed honest.
"Thank you, my lord," she returned with a nod.
"Please, you may call me Éomer," he insisted.
"Well then, thank you, Éomer," she repeated.
"No, thank you, Soriel," he said. "For stopping and talking with me."
They smiled at one another before at last, she departed.