Paths of Peril -- A Dynasty Broken Book II

By Adara

This chapter begins the telling of events in Rohan taking place at approximately the same time that Boromir becomes part of the Fellowship. It explores the role Grima Wormtongue plays in Eomer's rise to King of the Mark. Notice that I use some of Tolkien's descriptions of Rohan and Edoras. It is necessary for accuracy (better late than never). I will include subsequent chapters about Rohan as the Fellowship continues its mission.

Adara's standard disclaimer: I don't own these characters and am not making any money off of them. Wouldn't do anyone any good to sue me anyway, since the only thing I own of value is my horse, Dylan. He's a good horse, but you wouldn't make much money from his sale. Thanks to Tolkien for his wonderful imagination.

A Dish Best Served Cold

Prince Theodred had ridden many leagues since passing through the Gap of Rohan. He and two of his most trusted captains were returning from a visit to Ithilien where, during a secret meeting with the Acting Steward of Gondor, he had discussed the growing peril from both Mordor and Isengard, and how the two nations could help one another. The meeting was especially important since the marital alliance sought by Theoden King and Faramir's father had, to put it mildly, not come to fruition.

Theodred had met in secret with Faramir, in Ithilien, because he did not want his father or his father's chief counselor to know about the mission. If the meeting became public knowledge, Grima Wormtongue would probably charge him with plotting to overthrow the crown. Which was ironic, since that is exactly the charge Faramir's father leveled against the Prince during the Rohirrim's disastrous stay in Minas Tirith.

The meeting had been mostly positive, with Faramir assuring Theodred that the Prince of Dol Amroth and Denethor seemed to be leaning toward sending Gondorian troops to reinforce the horse-lords. The Prince of the Mark had been unable, unfortunately, to assure Faramir that his father would let Gondor's troops step onto Rohirrim soil. The impetus behind the hastily arranged meeting with Gondor's Acting Steward was the sudden deterioration of the King's health. Theoden had returned from Gondor a changed man, sapped of all vitality and the desire to rule. He became reclusive and few saw him other than Wormtongue, who had taken advantage of the old man's rapidly declining health to set himself up as a sort of "king behind the King." It was Grima who now set military policy, and every officer in the Mark loyal to Prince Theodred was shouting (privately) for the counselor's blood. It was becoming impossible to protect Rohan because nobody was allowed to make a decision in the field; everything had to be brought before Wormtongue for approval. No one dared make a decision on his own for fear of imprisonment or worse.

Grima has the King under some sort of spell, for Father refuses to listen to anything I say. I will have to deal with this Worm before Rohan is destroyed. Putting heels to his mount, the Prince surged forward at a swift canter.

* * * * * * * * *

Night was slowly fading and the dawn fast approaching. Exhausted from many sleepless nights, Prince Theodred rubbed his reddened eyes and blinked rapidly as the light of dawn rose in the East. As the shadows withdrew, the black walls of the Emyn Muil far away upon their left became visible. The Prince studied them balefully before turning his eyes toward home. He could make out the stream that issued from the dale, and far away he caught a glimmer of gold. Edoras, he thought with a mixture of gladness and despair, wondering what he would find upon his return.

The trio was riding into a wide glen located within the vales of the mountains of the South when a lone figure came riding toward them at full gallop. His horse was lathered in sweat and slavering heavily at the bit. Just before reaching the group, the soldier pulled back hard upon the reins, causing the gray gelding to nearly skid into the foremost horse and rider.

"What is wrong with you? Have you no sense?" Hama, captain of the King's guard, was seething, for it was he and his mount that had been nearly overrun.

"The Prince! I have an urgent message for Prince Theodred." The messenger's face was sweaty and dirt-smudged. For a moment, the only sound was the labored breathing of the overheated horse.

Prince Theodred urged his mount forward until he was alongside the rider. "Who sends this message?"

"The Lady Eowyn. Cold as ice she was when she bid me find you with all possible haste. She made it plain I was to reach the royal party before it entered Edoras."

Theodred nodded. "You have served the Lady well, since we are still at least three leagues from that city. What says my cousin?"

The rider leaned forward conspiratorially so his words would reach Theodred's ears alone. "Your cousin bid me say only this. Tell the Prince to watch his back. There is evil afoot."

Theodred scowled. "Did she say aught else?"

"Nay, my Prince. She would say no more. But the Lady was insistent that I remain with her cousin until he reached the Golden Hall. If anything happens to you, I am certain I shall become the scapegoat."

Theodred smiled thinly at the messenger for his poor attempt at humor and sat back in the saddle, pondering his cousin's words carefully for the meaning behind them. Hama's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Is something amiss, my Prince? Are we in danger?" The old soldier spoke barely above a whisper.

Keeping his own voice low, Theodred replied, "I do not know. Eowyn sent a cryptic message for my ears alone. She hints at some danger to my Royal person."

Hama clearly was not amused by the Prince's attempted humor. He looked about sharply, as though expecting an army of orcs to attack. "Then we must be on our guard until we reach Edoras, for the Lady Eowyn is not one to raise an alarm without good cause."

* * * * * * * * *

The company rode swiftly up the wide rutted track that led to Rohan's chief city. Still, it was almost noon when the three companions cantered into Edoras. They were edgy and tense. As they approached Meduseld, a woman dressed entirely in white stepped out of the shadows. The wind whipped her plain raiment about her slender form as she watched the men approach.

Prince Theodred urged his mount forward and the other two riders parted to let him pass. He reined his mount to a stop, dismounted quickly, and fairly flew up the steep steps to where Eowyn stood on the paved terrace at the stair's head. As he drew abreast of the woman, he gripped her arm to pull her next to him. "Eowyn, what is wrong? What danger…" Her sharp hiss warned him to silence mere seconds before he saw the man who had just emerged from Meduseld. Grima Wormtongue bowed respectfully.

"My Lord Prince, we have missed your Royal presence. You have been gone quite some time and no one seems to know where you had gotten off to." Theodred gripped the hilt of his sword and a deep flush crept upward from his neck to his face.

"I do not have to ask permission from a commoner to attend to my country's business." Eowyn placed a hand upon his arm to calm him. Wormtongue's smile was oily.

"You had best mind your temper and show a little more respect. I have the King's ear; he listens now to what I say." Shooting the pair an arrogant look, Grima swept past them, his cloak billowing out behind him as he strode through the great door. Eowyn turned wide blue eyes upon her cousin.

"You should not have angered him, Theodred," she whispered. The Prince motioned her to silence, staring purposefully at the doorwards. He then took her arm firmly, and both entered Rohan's Golden Hall.

* * * * * * * * *

Prince Theodred paced distractedly before the blazing hearth in his antechamber, clearly agitated. The Lady Eowyn stood near the fire beside a heavy wood table ornately carved with running horses. She was holding a goblet of mead and watching her cousin's nearly frenzied movements. "Peace, Theodred. Sit and drink and, when you are calmer, we can rationally discuss this dispatch. I sent for Eomer so that he, too, may speak his mind." The Prince nodded and walked to where the young woman stood. He took the goblet from her hand, strode to a nearby chair, and sat down heavily before draining the liquid in a single gulp. Eowyn gave him an amused smile and moved to his side. "Shall I refill your cup, cousin?" Theodred nodded in the affirmative. Casually he leaned back in the chair and studied Eowyn closely while she poured more of the honey liquor.

She seemed somewhat older than when he had left for Gondor as part of the Princess Eledwhen's entourage. Eowyn's lithe body was rigid with tension, and her beautiful face was stretched taut with fatigue. The lines around her eyes and the dark shadows beneath hinted at many sleepless nights. Something clearly had upset her. As Eowyn turned back toward Theodred with the refilled goblet, the door opened and the Third Marshal of the Mark entered. Eomer's glance shifted from his sister to his cousin before he shut the door soundly behind him. "Have I your permission to enter, my Prince?"

Theodred chuckled and reached for the mead still held firmly in Eowyn's hands. "Since you already have entered, why bother to seek my permission? Sort of akin to barring the stable door after all the horses have escaped."

Eomer laughed heartily and crossed to the table. He poured himself some mead, then looked at the Prince, raising an eyebrow as though seeking permission to do so. Theodred shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Why bother with the formalities after you do as you please? If you were not my cousin…"

Eomer quickly drained the goblet, poured himself a refill, and moved to stand before the fire. "It is bitterly cold in these halls. Might as well live in the stables. The horses at least are better company than many of the courtiers who fawn over you and your father. Particularly that Worm!"

Eowyn moved to stand beside her brother. Watching the Prince closely, she asked, "How was your trip to Gondor? Was it fruitful?"

Theodred rose unceremoniously from his chair and began pacing the length of the room. He spoke in clipped sentences as he paced. "The Lord Faramir and I talked endlessly, but it accomplished nothing other than to raise Wormtongue's suspicions. If Gondor's troops are not allowed to enter Rohan, on Grima's orders, there is no point in their coming."

Eomer rubbed his hands together to warm them and then changed the subject. "How have the Gondorians punished Denethor for his actions concerning your sister? I would have killed the Steward on the spot, but the men of Minas Tirith are too civilized for such swift justice."

The Prince froze in mid-stride, threw his arms out to the sides of his body, and shouted, "Nothing! They did absolutely nothing to punish that rapist! Denethor is now Faramir's advisor and his only 'punishment' is that he is not allowed to sit in the Steward's chair during Council." Theodred resumed his frenetic pacing. The room became eerily silent.

At length, Eomer spoke. "So, Gondor's ruler rapes his son's betrothed and orders the torture of the Prince of the Mark, and he is excused from his crimes because of some fantastic tale of possession. Does anyone truly believe that the Dark Lord wielded control over Denethor's mind?"

"The Gondorians do. You know how the Prince of Dol Amroth was able to convince Father to quietly fold his tent and go home." Theodred stood motionless for a few moments, deeply in thought. Eomer's voice again broke the uncomfortable silence.

"The Men of Gondor would believe such a ridiculous tale. The noblemen of that country are naught but a bunch of over-read ninnies. We shall have to deal with Denethor ourselves. But first we must wait and plan carefully. There will be time enough for retribution later, even if we must wait until after the King has passed over."

Theodred studied his cousin's face. He nodded grimly in agreement. "Revenge, as they say, is a dish best served cold."

Eowyn shuddered slightly at the thought of the two Men meting out Rohirric justice to Gondor's Steward. As much as she hated him for what he did to Eledwhen, she would not wish such a death on anyone. Dragging her thoughts reluctantly back to the problem at hand, Eowyn turned the conversation once more to the reason for her warning to the Prince. "Theodred, you must be careful. We have information that your life is in danger."

The Prince leveled his gaze upon her and she was surprised to see that he was actually smiling. "My life is always in danger. What soldier's life is not?"

Exasperated, Eowyn tried a different approach. "Eomer and I received a dispatch that tells of a plot against you. Someone wants you dead for his own selfish reason. This is not a joke, cousin!" The Prince looked at Eomer questioningly. "What say you? Do you give any credence to this? Who sent the dispatch?"

The Third Marshal stared thoughtfully into the fire before answering. "Erkenbrand set his seal to it; therefore, I doubt not the validity of the information. The dispatch does not include how he came across the plot, nor does it state the reason behind it. Perhaps Erkenbrand does not know. The only reason that makes sense is that someone has a strong desire to be King of Rohan. Yet your death would leave myself as the next in line for the throne, since Eledwhen gave up her claim when she agreed to wed the Lord Boromir. Still, to become King, someone would have to murder not just the Prince of the Mark, but the Third Marshal and his sister and, of course, the King himself. Such a plan is too preposterous to even contemplate, much less warrant serious consideration."

Eowyn stalked to where Theodred stood and gripped his shoulders tightly. Her pale skin was deeply flushed. "You must take this threat seriously! There is one who is cunning and dangerous enough to devise and carry out such a plan. You know as well as I who he is. The man is already pulling the strings behind the throne. How can you possibly doubt that such a thing is possible after your experience in Minas Tirith? After what happened to your own sister!" The Prince gave her a wounded look and abruptly pulled away from her grasp. He began to pace again.

"It is obvious that you believe my father's chief counselor capable of such intrigue, and I fear you are right. However, his hold over the King is unsettling but not, I deem, unbreakable. Even so, if this is Wormtongue's foul plan, then we must expose it; but we first must have irrefutable proof. Should we speak too soon, without proof, the snake will sink its fangs in even deeper. What say you, Eomer?"

"I would counsel caution, but I also would counsel that this plot must see the light of day as quickly as possible. If Wormtongue has indeed contrived the means of your death, we had best find out now, before his plan can be carried to its deadly conclusion. Theoden is failing and all too soon Rohan will need a new ruler. I should not like to become King by default. Especially since I would then be next in line for an assassin's arrow or knife. And, after my death, Grima's henchmen would go after Eowyn, and that I cannot allow."

Eowyn, who was standing by the hearth, clearly forgotten by the two Men, uttered one of the more colorful Rohirric curses. Both Men looked at her with raised eyebrows. She stared angrily at them, furious at their lack of insight. "Think you, Brother, that the Worm will kill me? I should be so fortunate. Are you both so blind you cannot see what is plainly before your eyes?" Both stared at her blankly. Eowyn swore again in frustration and stalked angrily to the door, pulling it open with such force that it hit the wall. Without a backward glance, she left the room.

"Do you understand her, Eomer? You are her next of kin. What the blazes was she talking about?"

The Third Marshal of the Mark shook his head, clearly perplexed. "Perhaps it is a woman thing. I try not to think too closely about such matters. Seriously, we must get to the root of this. If Wormtongue is at the center of a plot to destroy the Royal family, and we expose his plans, we shall finally be able to rid Rohan of his foul presence -- permanently." Both Men smiled grimly at the thought of life without the King's chief counselor.

* * * * * * * * *

Eowyn moved swiftly down the wide stone corridor leading to her chambers. How thickheaded Men can be, she thought angrily. All these years and they still cannot see how Master Wormtongue covets me. Am I the only one who notices his sidelong glances and hears the double meaning in the words he speaks to me? How can they be so blind? My brother is a dolt if he believes there is only one way for Grima to gain the throne. A sound in the corridor caused her to pause. Afraid it might be the King's counselor, she hurried to her rooms, slammed the door firmly behind her and bolted it. Feeling relatively safe, she placed her forehead against the wood door and wept bitter tears.

Finally Eowyn's tears stopped and she forced herself to walk to her hearth and willed the tension that had been building since Erkenbrand's dispatch had arrived to slowly leach from her body. Once again her thoughts strayed to the Princess. Oh, Eledwhen. Why ever did I let Wormtongue convince the King to leave me behind? For, having lost the most direct route to the throne because of your marriage to the Lord Boromir, the Worm turned his eyes upon me with more than mere lust in his thoughts. Though, in truth, it was most fortunate I remained behind, for I was here to receive Erkenbrand's warning. Eomer was on patrol, and had the dispatch been placed in Wormtongue's keeping… She shuddered at the consequences to the author of that missive. It would be so easy to kill any of Rohan's warriors, including the Prince and her brother. Men die in battle nearly every day. Grima pointed out to me only yesterday that death in battle is merely an occupational hazard. Was that meant as a warning? Was that his way of letting me know that if I do not marry him, he will see that Eomer does not survive his next battle?

There also was the matter of a second letter, for her eyes only, that Erkenbrand had enclosed with his dispatch. If the King's counselor discovered the Captain suspected that the Worm was acting as a spy of Saruman, they would all be dead. Especially since the Lord Faramir had informed Theodred that Gondor's recent dispatches suggested that Isengard was behind the current military threat to Rohan.

I must keep Erkenbrand's suspicions to myself until they can be proven true. He placed his trust in my discretion, and I shall not fail that trust. Eowyn groaned and held her head in her hands. How many worthy men already had died to further Wormtongue's ambitions? She had long ago lost count as, one by one, any who had the courage to speak against the King's counselor fell ill and died, or were hacked to pieces on the battlefield. There were few left to oppose him and, of those few, Theodred and Eomer were the most vocal. My dearest brother, how could I live if something happened to you?

Eowyn began pacing slowly as she strove to marshal her thoughts. Perhaps it is best that Eomer remains ignorant in this matter. Should he learn the truth, he may do something rash. I cannot, by my own cowardice, help Wormtongue destroy my brother. This is a burden I must bear alone -- at least for now. Feelings of sorrow and helplessness began to overwhelm her senses, and she shuddered violently. Without conscious thought, Eowyn made her way to her cold bed where, too exhausted to undress, she simply lay upon the quilted spread fully clothed. Another shudder wracked her slender body as she thought of Grima's touch upon her face. Was that really only yesterday? Can Grima truly twist the King's will to his bidding as he claimed? Is there no one brave enough to put an end to his treachery? Will this, in the end, fall upon my shoulders? And they say women are the weaker sex!

Eowyn sighed and closed her eyes. I swear on my life that I shall see Grima dead before he destroys my family, or touches me again. Too exhausted to think any more, the Lady of Rohan closed her eyes and prayed for a sleep that refused to come.

To be continued