When they returned to the Golden Hall, Grima and Eowyn awaited them on the terrace above the green stone fountain. He had caught sight of her lingering by the fountain earlier, trailing two fingers across its cold surface and peering intently at the frozen water as if to somehow divine secrets beneath the icy crust. During winter, the flow from the springhead slowed a little, allowing an icy crust to form around the lip of the green stone bowl beneath the horse's head. Small icicles formed around the head's spewing mouth and small children often broke them off and licked them for luck before thrusting the "whiskers" into pockets and letting them melt. In a moment of whimsy, Grima had imitated them, snapping an icy whisker from the fountainhead, and touching it to his tongue. It tasted of nothing but slightly metallic ice. Eowyn repeated the ritual now, as he watched unseen from the terrace above her. One slim pale hand slipped out from a heavy sleeve and caressed a small shaft of ice for a moment, fingers running up and down its length and lingering on the tip. Grima blinked and swallowed hard. Then swiftly, suddenly, the fingers snapped it off and held it for a moment, hidden within their fleshy grip. Then it reappeared to be touched to a pink tongue, licked along its length, base to tip. Tiny white teeth grazed the top of it before it disappeared once more into a firm, warm flesh grip. Maybe that's what luck tastes like, Grima thought intently as he clenched his hands in his pockets. He stepped back from the edge of the terrace as she glanced up, and was thankful for his layers of robes. One day he would not have to hide, but today was not that day. He shivered despite his heat. The sun was just a pale red sliver on the wintry horizon. Edoras was lit from within by lamps and candles and cookfires. He paused and gazed down the main street, punctuated by squares of yellow light. Soon full night would wrap him in its secrets. Perhaps…

Eowyn mounting the terrace steps and seemed surprised to see him there. She paused by him and said, "They are returning. Please inform my uncle. I will see to their supper."

Then she turned away from him and as she moved past him, he could see the icicle, still lightly gripped between her fingers. He caught his breath once more, and waited for a moment to compose himself before glancing at the riders approaching through the town.

Now that they had reached the main Way, they slowed. The horses looked almost as exhausted as their riders. At the foot of the terrace, they left the horses and mounted the steps wearily. The Spearbearers took their leave of their lieutenant, and Einal took Hama's hand and shook it in the traditional blessing before nodding to Rade and departing for his own lodging. Hama paused for a moment, and followed Rade inside. Grima observed both men closely as they passed him, taking in Hama's grief and Rade's uneasy expression. When he was once more alone on the terrace, he allowed himself the luxury of a raised eyebrow and a wondering expression before following the Doorwarden and the lieutenant into the yellow-lit Hall.

Rade was silent as Hama explained all that had occurred . Grima watched them both closely. His nostrils twitched. Hama was stricken, grieving for his niece. Rade looked… well, almost guilty. Reflexively, Grima's gaze shifted to Eowyn. She stood between her brother and her doltish cousin, both of whom were exchanging glances over her head. Eowyn herself was wearing her customary set expression, but to an experienced observer of her nature, such as Grima, her eyes spoke volumes. Confusion, concern… guilt? Grima flicked his gaze again across to Rade. The warrior's face mirrored hers, but with far less experience in hiding behind false expression. Despite himself, Grima was intrigued. He closed his eyes for a moment to allow the tension in the air to wash over him. Rade was hiding something that was eating at him. Grima wondered if he had killed the girl. Eowyn was involved. How? How could she be involved with the death of her maid, if Rade committed the act? Eomer and Theodred were also keeping secrets, Grima suspected, although far less successfully. However, in all of this, Rade would be the easiest target if approached carefully enough. Carefully, slowly, craftily… Grima gave himself a quick internal grin. He was suddenly intrigued by this mystery. Winter in the Riddermark could be diresomely dull, and Theoden was well under Grima's own power of subtle suggestion. Covertly, he observed Rade glancing at Eowyn more than once, and Eowyn glancing at Theodred only a little less frequently, as warm food was consumed, and stories were told. Hama was mostly silent. Grima spent a moment watching him, watching his face, sunken into crags and lines and remoulded into shapeless grief by the firelight. He remembered –

"…it's no good she's gone get the boy out of here get out grima don't look at your mother now its unlucky clean that mess up why did mother stop screaming where is the baby whats happening…"

- and experienced a rare, precious moment of genuine pity for the man. He dwelt in the sensation, rolled in it like a feather bed. Then it disappeared as unexpectedly as it had manifested, leaving him to himself again. Still, it had been a long time since anyone had touched him.

Perhaps a little investigation was warranted after all.

***

Rade was quartered with the other Spearbearers in a long low barracks building toward the south wall of the inner part of Edoras. Grima needed nor offered any pretext to lurk about outside until the lieutenant rose before dawn and set out on foot, crunching though the thin layer of snow that had fallen in the night. The predawn chill was lessened somewhat by the cloud cover, but Grima still shivered inside his robes as he followed at the distance. There were few people on the streets in the dreary gloom, so he had to maintain a fair distance to remain undetected and non threatening. Rade's long legs carried him quickly through the streets, and once Grima lost sight of him, but quickly found him again as he approached the west gate to the city where he greeted the guards warmly. Grima shrank back behind an open door and grunted in displeasure. He was reporting for guard duty. Still, he was due to be alone for the next little while before his partner joined him. It was a tiny flaw in the guard roster that Grima had managed to engineer some time before. You never knew what a single pair of eyes in the predawn darkness could miss… The two weary guards trudged toward the Barracks as Rade shrugged a heavy cloak over his already snug winter clothes and took his position. The guards' footsteps faded, and the air became quiet and still. Grima shivered, aching a little in the cold. He exhaled clouds of steam and stamped his feet as quietly as he could manage. Perhaps he could return to his rooms for a few more short hours worth of rest. He cupped his hands before his mouth and warmed them for a moment with his breath, amused to observe Rade echoing his gesture. Then the young guard took a burning torch from its bracket and shifted it across to the opposite side of the gate. Grima's attention was immediately arrested. He observed sharply the young man stare out into the gloom intently, his breath misting around his face. Grima too stared out, cold forgotten in his effort to see what the guard saw. A rider approached, wrapped and muffled against the cold. The shaggy pony's hooves sank hock deep into the snow on the approach, kicking up great gouts of powdery snow. Grima cursed and shrank back behind his concealment as a second figure, cloaked and hooded, approached Rade and spoke a few words to him. He replied without looking away from the rider. Grima could not hear clearly what was being said. He crept closer, stopping behind a pile of produce crates stacked a little along the wall from the gate. From here he could observe the rider and the watchers, and hear more or less clearly what was said. The rider reached the gate and was helped from the saddle by Rade and his companion. Then the companion turned into the torchlight and pushed back her hood to reveal a head of long golden hair. Grima's breath caught in his chest. Eowyn. He stopped breathing altogether as the rider copied the action, pushing back hood and wrappings, and leaning into Rade's embrace.

Unless Grima was very much mistaken, which he very seldom was, the mystery rider was the girl, Leah.