Disclaimer: LotR and all its related characters do not belong to me and are used without permission. Book based. Spoilers potentially for RotK and TTT
Into Shadow She Rode
Chapter 7: To Fall, to Fail, to Fly
by Papillon
Théoden settled himself into his throne with a sigh. "Yes, my son, what is it you wished to see me concerning?" he asked wearily of Théodred, who stood before him with brows knitted in thought.
"My dear father," he responded, "I have been considering our kingdom's affairs much of late, and Éowyn in particular has been in my thoughts often."
"Éowyn?" Théoden echoed. "What cause have you to think of Éowyn? She carries herself with grace and beauty enough, and does not shame our house."
Théodred shook his head emphatically. "Nay, father, she does, or she will. She bears none of the fault for it, however; it has come upon her, and only we can resolve it for her."
"Cease your riddles, son," Théoden began, but fell silent abruptly when a side door opened and Éowyn, with Gríma at her heels, entered.
Éowyn crossed to the dias quickly and opened her mouth to speak, but Gríma broke in first. "Sire, the Lady Éowyn expressed a desire to cook your evening meal herself, but I told her this was unnecessary and too mean a task for a lady such as herself. The serving maids do it with alacrity and they have no need for meddling nobles to-"
Éowyn stepped in front of him, a frustrated look upon her features. "Uncle, I merely wished to show my love and devotion to you by cooking you a simple meal, nothing more. I do not trust those serving maids… they have grown slack and lazy of late."
Seeing that he was about to kindly rebuke her and follow Gríma's advice, as he always did, she cried desperately, "And what else have I to do, trapped in this hall all of my days? Nothing! I am as a caged animal who paces back and forth until he is driven mad!"
Théodred smiled, drawing Éowyn's wrath. Does he dare to mock me? she thought angrily, but he held up a hand to stop her further outburst. "Father, this is exactly what has occupied my thoughts these past weeks. Éowyn is almost twenty years old! She cannot forever remain in our household as if she were a child. It would be advantageous to both her and the House of Eorl if she were to marry. Therefore I propose that we begin searching for suitable men immediately, so that she may be wed and free from her boredom."
Immediately, three voices began speaking simultaneously. Éowyn started to cry out in protest, but then, as Théoden called for silence, reconsidered. Perhaps…perhaps then I could be free…
She interrupted, "Would I choose for myself whom I would wed?"
Théodred began to answer, "Surely we would allow you to-" but Théoden silenced him with a stern look.
"Gríma, what say you to this proposal of marriage? Think you that it is wise?" he asked, turning to his counsellor.
Stepping closer to Théoden's chair, Gríma responded, "My lord, it is very ill-conceived. Éowyn is far too young to leave her family's household yet. True, many girls are married at her age, but she is royalty, and therefore cannot take marriage lightly. It is far too serious a matter for her yet."
Éowyn bit back a cry of dismay and anger. How dare he speak of me as though I were a flighty child! He has no control over me! she thought.
Gríma continued. "She is also very valuable and precious. You must spend years in thought before you give her away to an ill-deserving man who will despoil her beauty and worth. Therefore, my lord, I advise you to delay marriage, perhaps for many years to come. She is needed where she is now."
Inwardly, Éowyn laughed bitterly. Needed? I am as needed and as useful as a stone tied around one's neck. What lies he always spreads!
But to her dismay, Théoden nodded, after a pause, and said slowly, "I find your advice to be, as always, wise, my most trusted counsellor. Éowyn shall not marry until he feels that she is ready and that we are able to find her a suitable man to wed."
Théodred said in a low voice, "Father, I do not think it is wise to listen to him always, for his words are not always as they seem."
Éowyn barely noticed Théoden's dismissive response, for she was concentrating on keeping hot tears from rushing to her eyes. Another hope of freedom from this place dashed as though it never was! I am so desperate that I would even marry a man I do not love, simply to get away, away from that skulking worm and my uncle slowly degenerating before my eyes! But Gríma will prevent it, as he has always prevented it, as he will forever prevent it! Why? Why must he take such delight in my suffering?
She turned quickly and left the room, ignoring all politeness and courtesy. She strode quickly, half-running, down to the stables. I have to get out of this cursed stifling place! She reached the entrance to the stables and was amazed to find a guard standing before the door.
"Let me through," she demanded, in no mood to ask politely.
The guard shifted uncomfortably and said timidly, "I cannot allow you passage, my lady. Gríma has ordered that you not be allowed to leave Edoras without the king's permission and someone to accompany you. It is for your own safety, he said, my lady."
Frustrated, she nearly tried to force the door, but instead turned and ran back to Meduseld, past the door wardens and through the back halls. She heard someone's footsteps behind her and increased her pace, but the person behind her sped up as well, and started gaining on her. I wish to be alone! Why can I not even find solitude in my own home?
She had just passed through the doors of the armory when she felt strong arms grab her from behind and slow her rapid movement. She looked and beheld Éomer's face, slightly flushed from exertion.
"Éowyn, by the name of Eorl, what has happened? Who are you fleeing from?" he asked, puzzlement in his eyes.
"No one, and everyone," she cried fiercely. "I want to be away from this stinking place, to go away forever and never return! But they hinder me, trap me and bind me until I am driven nearly mad by the stifling hopelessness of it!"
"I will not hear you slander our house in my presence," he said sternly, and then, his voice softening, asked, "Tell me, what has driven you to be so desperate?"
She answered softly without expression, "The realization that I can never escape from this place, that they will never let me leave. I will die here and never be allowed to prove my valour and defend our kingdom on the battlefield! I would not have my life wasted thusly!" She looked down, hopelessness rising over her.
Éomer said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder, "It is only that those who love you do not wish to see you hurt. We only seek to protect you from harm and keep you at home, as is fitting for a woman of your stature."
Éowyn pulled back, stung. Such words, from you, dear brother? Not even you see that I can fight, that I need to ride with warriors? She pushed away from his comforting arms and scrambled backward, blindly seeking behind her back for a weapon. Her hand closed around the hilt of a sword, and she drew it up in front of her.
"I challenge you to a fight, Éomer. Fight me, and we shall see what is fitting for 'a woman of my stature'" He jumped back when she charged at him, and, a startled look on his face, scrabbled about for a sword to defend himself. He brought it up just in time to prevent her blade from crashing into his chest, and their swords clashed loudly.
"Éowyn, what has possessed you?" he cried, moving his sword only enough to protect himself against her wild swings.
"Nothing," she answered, "nothing but a sickness of unrest which will not let me be!" She grasped hold of the anger within herself a little, and slowed her attack, taking more time and skillfully darting in so that Éomer was sore pressed to block her strikes.
"You do not understand," she said, gasping a little, for they were both breathing heavily. "You cannot understand, for you are free to ride away if you wish, and no one will trap you in menial tasks until the end of your days. How can you understand? And how dare you, any of you, tell me what I can and cannot do?" she asked furiously.
Éomer dared not respond, but put all of his energy into defending himself, quickly moving a leg around to trap her and hold her sword arm against him. He could feel her heart thudding frantically against his chest as she struggled in vain to break free. He looked down at her face, with mussed tendrils of hair against her forehead, pupils dilated from rage, cheeks flushed, and lips softly parted as she gasped for air.
She looks so beautiful…he thought wistfully, admiring her flashing grey eyes and full pink lips. His face was inches away from hers, but she was not looking up, concentrating only on freeing herself. He moved slightly closer until they were almost touching. She is mine…he thought, bending in to kiss her sweet lips.
He jerked back before they touched, and pushed Éowyn violently away, clumsily stumbling towards the door. What madness is this? What madness! Revulsion and self-loathing filled him, and he turned and ran out of the armory, ran madly away from the sudden clarity that had come to him. He suddenly understood what had troubled him those years ago, what had been lurking in the depths of his mind ever since, the horror which he was a willing partner to.
I desire my own sister! I am a monster! He heard Éowyn calling after him as he reached the stables and dashed past the guard. Quickly he saddled and mounted his horse, riding swiftly to the wall which surrounded Edoras.
He said the proper things which he did not hear to the guards, but, as he made to leave, heard Éowyn draw up behind him. He turned slowly, unwillingly, to meet her gaze.
"Éomer, what is this?" she cried, breathing heavily. "Where are you going?"
"Away," he muttered, guilt and remorse pricking at his heart. "I cannot stay here. I must leave."
She pleaded, "I am sorry for what I said, Éomer. Do not leave me! I could not bear it if you too should leave me alone! You are my support and my strength, Éomer. You cannot abandon me here in this cursed place!"
"Farewell, Éowyn. Forgive me." He did not meet her eyes, but spurred his horse and rode quickly away, without a backward glance.
Éowyn sank to her knees, heedless of the guards around her. I have driven him away. Now I am truly alone, truly alone in my cage. Tears ran down her cheeks so that she did not see Gríma creeping up behind her, a smile touching his lips, until he laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away when she saw his face, and threatened, "Do not touch me, Wormtongue! I warn you, I will kill you if you lay a hand on me once more."
Gríma's smile did not fade. "Is that so, my lady? It seems your brother has departed rather abruptly. What a pity. I do not think he will be returning very soon, do you, my lady?"
Éowyn stared at him, comprehension dawning. I am helpless against him. He controls Théoden, and he controls this whole kingdom…and he controls me.
Her eyes grew cold and hard as a winter frost, and Gríma shrank back a little, but relaxed when he saw the utter hopelessness in her face, the final despair in her gaze. It is as my master planned, he thought, or perhaps even better. Soon she will be mine, as will this whole kingdom. Soon…
The sun was swallowed up by the horizon, and darkness fell over the kingdom of Rohan.
A/N: So…here it is. The big (and yet short) chapter, in which what this story has been building up to is revealed…to all save Éowyn. That will come later.
I'm putting this up now, though I ought to be going to bed, because people tell me I do not update often enough. Imagine that! But I suspect many people will be angered by this chapter, because, despite the fact that I said it would be dark, and plenty of hints have been dropped in preceding chapters, they had no idea where this was heading. To those people: I am sorry, but at the same time I won't apologize for myself. I am writing this for me, not for you, and while I love my readers, I do not love them to the point where I would deviate from the plan I've laid out for this story. At least not significantly.
Incest. It's an ugly word, and this was a hard chapter to write. Harder than I thought it would be. It was written rather quickly, yes, because I got inspired, but…it actually gave me a nightmare-literally. Some people may ask why I chose to write about such an ugly thing.
Yes, it's ugly, but so too is murder, so too is death, destruction, and nearly anything that makes for conflict and drama. If I'd wanted to write a happy story, I could have, but I don't think it would have challenged me as a writer, at least not in the way I want to challenge myself. It may not be uplifting to read-though you'll have to see in the end, and you might be surprised-but I try to make it, er, gripping. Interesting at least. Some great writers have tackled the subject, and written great things. I'm not trying to write a masterpiece, but I am trying to write things from a fresh angle.
I'm not advocating incest in any way, shape, or form, and no one here is a willing participant (some may protest that statement…you'll see). There will be no sex. I could not bring myself to write that even if I thought it was realistic for the characters and useful for the story, which I don't. So, sick people looking for that, look elsewhere. I am trying to write a serious incest story-not incest for the sake of it, but because I think it would advance Éowyn's character and the way she views things in interesting ways. I didn't want to write something everyone else already had-or, at least, I wanted to do something less common.
There may be a few who are shocked, and wondering why I didn't warn you from the beginning-but as I've said, incest isn't the raison d'ê tre of this story. I didn't want to automatically scare people off and make people think it'd be another sick and twisted PWP. I will probably put up a warning by the next chapter, but I didn't want to give away the "surprise". Just think how the characters are feeling.
Long Author's Note for a short chapter! To those of you who knew where it was heading, please do review and tell me what you thought, if you had the time. I don't have time this chapter to thank those who've reviewed-next chapter.
Age note: I forgot to mention that Éowyn was about eighteen and a half in the last chapter, and obviously, almost twenty in this one. We're getting there-getting to the good stuff! See you (hopefully) soon!