A/N: I still recall those comments from people that Aragorn was far too informal with Éowyn. I agree completely, after reviewing my writing. It has been altered, along with Éowyn's crying, which she now does less of.
Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's Middle Earth, or its inhabitants
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Chapter 2: Edoras
Early the next morning, Aragorn and company set off on the final trek to Edoras. They had been travelling for so many days that they could not say but the thought that they were close to their destination was comforting and lifted everyone's spirits. For the entire day, the plains of Rohan sped past them as they raced along the flat. By late afternoon, they were able to see the Golden Hall of Meduseld, glistening in the falling sunlight.
"What is that light in the distance, shining on the top of that hill?" asked Gimli, straining to see what it was. Legolas stared in the same direction, also trying to make it out.
"It looks like a large hall, there are golden decorations but it is too far to see what they are of," he answered.
"It is the Golden Hall of Meduseld in the capital of Edoras," replied Aragorn. "There dwells Théoden, son of Thengel, King of Rohan."
The company rode up to the gates of Edoras, where several guards, clad in green cloaks with shining helmets bearing two golden horses, came to meet them. They wore stern expressions.
"What is your business here, strangers?" enquired one guard, with a particularly splendid white plume of horsehair in his helmet.
Aragorn stepped forward, "We have come to see Théoden King. We are friends of Gandalf the White, and come with news for him."
"Who is this Gandalf the White? Is not Saruman still master of the Wizard's Council?"
"Gandalf has taken that role after the ransacking of Isengard. Saruman has been responsible for the increased number of orcs and Uruk-hai that have been allowed to wander these parts," replied Aragorn
"Saruman has betrayed us then," said the guard; the others around him murmured in shock.
"His forces are depleted now, he should not pose a threat," assured Aragorn, "but we must bring this news to the king, there are some other things that he must consider."
"Wait here," instructed the guard, and walked up the stairs to the king's hall.
Aragorn looked up at the Golden Hall; his eyes caught sight of a woman standing still, on the steps of Meduseld. She was dressed in a long robe of white wool with a silver and gold woven belt that fell from her waist, her golden hair caught in the breeze and fluttered briefly.
Aragorn looked away momentarily as the guard returned and opened the gate for them. He again looked up at the steps, but the woman had disappeared. Had she been real? Had he just imagined her?
Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli entered the city, escorted by four guards. Gimli looked suspiciously at them and grumbled something about the guards not trusting them and discriminating against dwarves. As they drew nearer to Meduseld, they were able to see the fine carvings on the black and gold pillars that depicted stories of the Rohirrim from long ago.
When they reached the top of the steps, they noticed that Théoden himself had come to greet them; Aragorn fell on one knee.
"Do not kneel before me, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he said kindly, "it is I who should be bowing before you, as Isildur's heir." Aragorn rose and looked at him, smiling.
"It is good to see you well, Théoden King," he replied. He beckoned to Legolas and Gimli to step forward.
"Allow me to introduce my companions, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, and Gimli, son of Glóin, of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain."
Théoden greeted both Elf and Dwarf graciously and with a smile.
"Greetings, Théoden King," said Legolas, "I trust that all is well in your kingdom."
Théoden smiled. "It is good to see friends of old return to these lands again," he said cheerfully. He paused momentarily as if reminiscing of old times.
"Forgive me, you must be tired from your travels," he started, "come in and rest yourselves."
Théoden lead them through the mighty doors into a large hall, splendidly decorated with tapestries and banners. The room was softly lit and at the end of the hall, Aragorn could see a large, ancient throne; behind it stood a tall, slender figure. As he drew closer, Aragorn was able to observe that it was a woman, the same one he had seen standing outside on the steps. She was so mysterious and captivating; her beauty, grace and stature radiated from her. He could tell that she was of high class. She stepped forward out of the shadow of the throne, into the sunlight. He felt as though her deep blue eyes were gazing into his, reaching into his soul. She was quite young, a maiden no more than seventeen, but her expression was stern as steel, cold as frost and sad, as though she had seen so many hardships for someone so young.
"Allow me to introduce you all," said Théoden, "this is my niece, Éowyn, daughter of Éomund."
The woman curtsied low before them all and rose again. Suddenly, as she rose to her feet, she caught sight of Aragorn; she paused and her stern expression changed to one of tranquillity. He walked over to her, taking her hand and kissing it gently.
"Lady Éowyn," he murmured, his eyes fixated on hers. She blushed furiously but composed herself enough to reply:
"My lord," she said, but started abruptly when a greasy man entered cloaked in black robes and his lips curled into a bitter expression. His eyes flickered to Aragorn and then to Éowyn; he glowered wrathfully.
Aragorn saw that Éowyn's face had become cold and pale once more. She turned and walked hastily out of the room, glancing briefly at Aragorn for a moment.
"This is Gríma, son of Gálmód. My advisor," said Théoden.
Gríma bowed but remained silent, still staring at the door, which Éowyn had gone through.
Éowyn hurried along the passage. She hoped to reach her room before Gríma decided to follow her. As she passed the door to Théodred's room, she halted briefly. How she wanted to see how he was. Slowly, she opened his door and crept inside, closing the door silently behind her. Moving gradually over to Théodred's bedside, she knelt on the floor beside him and sat in stillness for some time.
Gríma had followed her, not long after she had left the hall. He had hidden behind a corner, watching as she entered Théodred's room. He now began to move towards it and, gently edging the door open without a sound, he entered. Éowyn did not hear him come in. Her grief was consuming her; tears rolled in steams down her pale face. Gríma approached her slowly.
"He is gone, Éowyn," said Gríma, smirking to himself. "He passed away a short time ago, it is over."
"How dare you disturb me in my grieving, Gríma, leave me," she snapped, holding her head high.
"Can I not console you in your sadness, my lady?" asked Gríma shrewdly.
"Leave, now," said Éowyn, sharply turning to face him with an irate look upon her usually fair face. Gríma only stepped closer, reaching for her cheek. She backed away abruptly, but not before he had grasped her face, pulling it close to his. He stroked her cheek softly.
"You are so fair, my lady, so fair and so cold, like a pale spring still clutching to a winter's chill," said Gríma. "What a pity you have such a vicious temper," he snarled, as Éowyn lashed out.
"My temper is only to do with you, Gríma," she remarked. "I do not need your sympathies or your comforts, I beg you one last time to leave me," and with that, she turned and left the room. Éowyn continued to her own chambers to ready herself for dinner.
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Aragorn had become concerned. Éowyn had not come back yet and it was almost time to eat. He worried that something had happened to her and was suspicious that Gríma could be behind it. He entered the door, which he had seen both Éowyn and Gríma go through, finding himself in a long passageway. He strolled along, past several rooms until he arrived at one that he suspected might belong to Éowyn. He knocked at the door. Shortly, Éowyn had come to the door and opened it. Aragorn could tell that she had been crying.
"What has upset you so, Lady Éowyn?" he asked kindly. "Is there anything I might be able to do to comfort you in your grief?"
Éowyn wiped the tears from her cheek and stared into his blue-grey eyes.
"My cousin, Théodred, has passed away, I have just been to him," she said, her steely expression showing little emotion, though she forced it. Aragorn took her slender form in his arms and stood in silence for a time.
"What can I do to ease this pain?" he begged her. "It upsets me to see such sorrow in one so young and fair."
Éowyn turned her head up to look at him.
"Might I first give these tidings to Théoden King, he must learn of this sad news; then would you keep me company for tonight?"
Aragorn smiled at her. "If you desire that, my lady, then I shall stay with you for as long as is your wish."
Éowyn smiled weakly and stepped out into the corridor. When she had reached the hall again, she made her way to Théoden.
"Dear uncle," she began, "it will grieve you to learn that Théodred has passed away."
Théoden looked shocked but did not allow himself to express his sadness. He walked slowly to another side door, turning to say one thing.
"I must retire now, I bid thee all good night."
Aragorn and Éowyn returned to her room and remained there for a time. Although Aragorn tried to ease her pain, Éowyn did not weep at during the course of the evening.
"My lady, why do you not grieve? You are so strong for one so young."
"I grieve, Lord Aragorn, but it is such that it is silent," she replied, "I have suffered much loss in my life and this is but one more. I am a shieldmaiden of Rohan, I do not weep."
Éowyn laid her head on Aragorn's shoulder as he stroked her golden hair.
"I admire you, my lady," he said. "You bear so many burdens but never do you falter."
"I do falter, Aragorn, but no one sees me," she said sadly. "It is my faltering that led to Théodred's death."
"Théodred's death was not your fault, lady, know that; it could not have been prevented by you."
Éowyn sighed, her head slipped into Aragorn's lap, her eyes closing gently. Aragorn bent down and kissed her brow softly.
"Maer dû, melui híril," (Good night, sweet lady,) he whispered.
Éowyn stirred slightly but did not wake. Aragorn pulled the bed covers over her and sat beside her. Here he stayed until early morning, watching over her as she slept.
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When Éowyn awoke, she found herself staring into the blue-grey eyes of Aragorn.
"Maer aur, hîr nîn," (Good morning, my lord,) she said sweetly; Aragorn looked pleasantly surprised.
"Maer aur, híril nîn," (Good morning, my lady,) he replied, smiling.
"You seem surprised to find that I can speak the language of the Elves. A royal lady of Rohan is expected to speak Sindarin. In days of old, we received Elvish guests at the Hall of Meduseld, but after the Dark Lord regained his strength, the Elves began to depart from these lands for the Grey Havens. I feel alone in this world, Théodred is gone, Éomer has left and Théoden slips into Gríma's grasp. I feel myself falling into darkness." Her face saddened.
"You will never be alone in this world, my lady," he said. "So many people admire and love you."
Éowyn fell silent for a moment, pondering a thought, which she could not bring herself to speak out loud.
"Is something troubling you, lady?" Aragorn asked, "Have I said something to offend you?"
"No, my lord," she answered, hastily brushing it aside.
She rose from the bed, walking towards the window; but Aragorn caught her by the wrist, pulling her back. He stared into her deep blue eyes. She turned her head, unable to face him, freeing herself from his grip and moving to the window, staring out at the wide plains of Rohan below. Aragorn followed but stood back, watching her. Éowyn kept praying that he would leave her to her misery. He simply stood there, his eyes fixed on her awaiting a response. She didn't want to turn around and face his blue-grey eyes. Finally she heard him turn and his footsteps fade slowly. She listened for the sound of the door closing behind him and barely caught his last words.
"Estel sílatha anuir i môr, ú-gwanno han, ú-demado han; ae cerich, dannathach." (Hope will shine always in darkness, do not turn from it, do not forget it; if you do, you shall fall.)
Éowyn collapsed on the floor of her room, and broke into tears.
"Why," she sobbed. "Why must I suffer so, why must the ones I love suffer so. What have they done to deserve my punishment?"
She thought of Théodred, of her parents, of Éomer and of Théoden. She had watched them either die or suffer needlessly. She was now forced to watch herself suffer, and the one man who could help her, had turned away from her. And she had let him.
She rose to her feet, wiping her tear-stained eyes and making her way down the corridor to the main hall. The hall was empty so early in the morning, so Éowyn strolled outside onto the steps. She admired the grassy plains of Rohan, as they caught the morning rays. She felt the breeze lift her golden hair into the wind and make it dance. Suddenly she noticed movement at the gates of Edoras; a rider, bearing the shield of the Rohirrim, had entered the city. As he drew nearer, she could make out that he was from the Third Marshal of the Riddermark, and he was badly wounded. He made his way through the city to the foot of the steps. Éowyn hurried down to meet him.
"What news of my brother," she called out. "How does he?"
"He is well, lady," answered the soldier, "I have news for Théoden King."
"Come inside and rest," she implored, "you are weary and injured."
He expressed his gratitude and followed her up the stone steps and through the doors.
"Fetch me some warm water and rags," she called to a servant, who bowed quickly and hurried away, returning shortly afterwards with a wooden bowl and white cloths.
"How is my dearest brother," she asked, as she bathed his wound and bound it.
"He is well, lady, but I do not bring good news from him. May I speak with the king?"
"I will go and fetch him," she said, and entered the large doors at the back of the hall, behind the throne.
Éowyn walked along the hallway to the king's chambers and knocked tentatively on his door. When she heard his voice from inside, she went in. Théoden was awake and dressed when she found him.
"Uncle, there is a messenger here with news for you from Éomer. He wishes to speak with you."
"I will see him shortly, but I must visit Théodred before his burial," he said softly
"May I join you?" she asked.
He nodded his head and smiled at his niece; they made their way through another set of doors to where Théodred lay. Éowyn wanted to cry; this had confirmed all her nightmares. She had hoped that she would wake and it would all return to how it was before but she knew that would never happen. A tear rolled down her velvety cheek, she could hear Théoden sob softly in the dim room. She didn't know how to comfort him. Then taking his arm, she led him back out again.
When Théoden and Éowyn reappeared, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn were also there. Gimli was seated on a stool at one of the tables, Legolas stood beside him. Aragorn was pacing a little. Gríma she did not see, he hid in the shadows of the hall, unmoving and almost invisible if not for his foul, glittering eyes. They all looked up as Théoden entered with Éowyn at his arm. He looked grim Aragorn watched her intently as she led Théoden across the room.
"Westu hál, Théoden!" (Hail, Théoden!) cried the soldier, "I bear tidings from Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark."
"Speak," said Théoden.
"A large army has been seen ten leagues from here, marching to Edoras. They are Uruk-hai, ten thousand at least, bearing the White Hand. This may be Saruman's last stand against Rohan, but he will not be easily defeated."
The room had gone silent, everyone looked troubled. Théoden seemed at a loss for words. All were in shock.
"How soon will they be here?" asked Théoden shakily.
"By nightfall, they are moving fast, and in daylight," said the soldier.
"You must prepare for battle," declared Aragorn. "You must stand and fight."
"I will not risk open war," shouted Théoden. "Let them come."
"Théoden, they come not to destroy Rohan's crops or villages – they come to destroy its people…down to the last child."
Théoden looked troubled. "We shall make for our refuge." He turned to Éowyn, "Alert the people that we must leave for Helm's Deep." Then turning to the messenger, said, "Ride to Éomer. Inform him of our plans." He sighed deeply, "It will end here, for Isengard or Rohan."
He looked at Aragorn, who nodded solemnly. He knew it must be done.
"Fetch my horse," cried Théoden. "We ride for Helm's Deep!"
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A/N: I hope no one will be complaining about any changes made. It took ages and I'm not undoing them.