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Chapter 5: Trouble
The next morning, the two women woke to hear that Théodred had ridden out on some errand to the West Marches. No one was extremely concerned; it was common enough. Éomer did indeed go out with the two of them that afternoon. They took a longer route to the practice spot, careful to avoid anyone who might follow them. The arrived after almost an hour's ride, but the extra time was worth it. Éomer sparred with them a bit. He was amazed at Seven's strength and speed, as well as her quick learning. She never made the same mistake twice. By the end of the afternoon, he would have guessed she had been training for years, not days. Seven learned little new about Éowyn's brother, but quickly came to respect his skill with a sword. The threesome returned to Edoras without incident, and no one said anything about their excursion, but someone pulled Éomer aside after dinner.
Éomer found Éowyn and Seven later that evening. "There's trouble on the East Wall. Scouts have brought news of Orcs preparing to attack. I'll ride in the morning, but the king will not like it."
"If you take your men, you'll leave the city nearly undefended." Éowyn looked concerned.
"If I don't go, the Orcs will soon attack the city itself. I would rather meet them far away than at my door. Wormtongue will not approve, but at least we won't have to face them here with women and children to defend."
Éowyn nodded. "Be careful."
"When am I not?"
Éomer gave her a crooked grin, and Éowyn muttered something that could have been "never." The next morning, he managed to get out before he could be noticed, but Théoden was not happy when he heard the news from Gríma, who managed to put a dark slant on it. Éowyn managed to calm him slightly, and Seven did her best to stay out of sight. Théoden did not need to be reminded of her presence when he was in such a foul mood.
Several days passed. Éowyn and Seven continued training as they could, sometimes joined by Háma or one of the other soldiers, but more often than not alone. The men did not like to train with women for fear they would injure them. Éowyn did what she could to keep Wormtongue under control, but it was an uphill battle. At dinner one evening, a messenger ran into the hall.
"Théoden King, I bring ill news. Your son has been slain in battle on the West Marches. Few escaped the battle to tell of it." The messenger bowed his head, grieving for his prince and nervous of the king's reaction, but the old king simply bowed his head in grief. He left the room and no one save Wormtongue spoke to him until Éomer returned a couple days later, telling a strange tale of three hunters.
"My king, returning from battle with the Orcs we encountered three beings—a Man, an Elf, and a Dwarf, all clothed in the manner of the Elves. They said they had come from Lothlórien and were looked on in favor by the Lady there. They claimed to be hunting Orcs who had taken their companions prisoner. The Man claimed to be the heir of Isildur, Aragorn son of Arathorn. The Man claimed to be Aragorn son of Arathorn, the heir of Isildur. He traveled with an Elf called Legolas and a Dwarf named Gimli son of Glóin. I lent them two horses to continue their search."
"You know it is against the king's will to give aid to strangers, Éomer." Wormtongue had an eager glint in his eye. "You have defied your king's wishes in order to chase after myths. First you leave the city defenseless, then you help foreigners before your own kin!"
"Master Gríma is correct." Théoden raised his head. "You have defied me, and for that you must be punished, Third Marshall." He motioned to another two guards. "Take his sword and put him in the keep."
Seven and Éowyn, watching from the shadows, cringed at this. Éomer was one of the few forces still opposing Wormtongue and keeping Théoden from falling completely under his spell. After they slipped out, Éowyn wondered aloud about the three hunters, especially Isildur's heir. Seven didn't really understand what the fuss was over, but this society was based on inheritance and bloodlines, so she let it pass.
The city was silent that day, and the next. No one knew what to think. So much had happened in so little a time. Éowyn spent much of her time comforting people and reassuring them, though she was grieving herself. She had lost a cousin and now her brother was imprisoned.
Seven did what she could to help, but she was uncomfortable with all the emotion, not fully understanding it herself. She had grieved when Chakotay had died, but that had been a personal grief, not one shared by an entire community. Undoubtedly the rest of Voyager's crew had mourned him, too, but she hadn't had any contact with them during that time except for the funeral. Both Seven and Captain Janeway had been stoic, refusing to show any emotion, but many of the others cried. Afterwards, everyone scattered again. Seven had been uncomfortable with the sympathy and also the awkward strangeness of being an ex-Borg, which she felt much more keenly without Chakotay, so she had gone to Vulcan where she wouldn't have to deal with emotion. Here she couldn't escape it.
In the midst of the grief, Wormtongue became more abusive toward the two women. Once he cornered Seven in a peasant's hut and made some less than savory insinuations. Cornered against a wall, Seven was in no mood to be diplomatic. "Master Gríma, I would suggest you keep your thoughts—and your hands—to yourself. I am more than capable of causing very significant pain to certain parts of your anatomy." With that, she shoved him aside and walked away. Fortunately, Wormtongue was too concerned about his manhood to report the incident to the king.
After that, Seven made certain Éowyn was never far out of her sight. Éowyn was strong, but when it came to it, Wormtongue could probably overpower Éowyn, but not Seven. It was a strange role reversal. Seven and Éowyn had started as tense acquaintances, with Éowyn guarding Seven, who had been almost a prisoner. Now Seven was the protector and the two of them were fast friends—and allies against a common enemy.