Chapter 11.
Éowyn walked slowly down the hall, the candlelight reflected off of her dark green dress. Her hand played with the pendent around her neck, the one so many years ago she had taken from her mother's jewelry box. She was glad that Éomer had finally arrived back in the city, and hoped that they would be able to talk of the week's strange events. She slowed at a cracked door from which came the sound of a familiar voice.
"My lord, Éomer has arrived in the city," Grima said sitting beside his liege and helping himself to the jar of wine that sat on the table. He drank in a slow manner and leaned forward his tongue flickering behind yellow teeth.
"They say that his victory is that worthy of the throne. They say… that Théodred would not have done as well if put in the same situation… that no one in this household is more worthy of the throne than he," he hissed, sitting back again to watch the effect of his words.
"That is foolishness. The people know Théodred has more experience, that he is more skilled, more educated… They would not be so foolish as to presume that Éomer would receive the throne. That an ill-bred, war-mongerer like him could rule the land…" Grima smiled as the king spoke, his web was masterfully woven, the spider moved in for a kill.
"There are rumors, oh my king that Éomer himself has started to believe these things. That he thinks himself worthy of the crown. Such sedition is very dangerous my lord."
"He could not believe such a lie…"
"One who has had so much fortune in battle, may, at times come to believe it is of his own doing. That he is the one to whom the victories are attributed, not luck. If he is not shown more of battle, then we can never hope to break him of his pride."
Théoden sat silently. Grima continued in a quieter voice, "His father before him was proud, but he was kept in check by his post as a marshal… perhaps…" the trap was set.
"Éomer could take on his father's former post as the third marshal, yes, that would show him more of war, and perhaps a few defeats would rid him of his pride. I have tried to raise these children as best I can you know. I do not wish Éomer to grow up to be a usurper to the throne."
"Of course you have my liege… of course you have…" the advisor said rising and setting down his glass. A rustle outside the cracked door startled him, "If you will excuse me my lord?"
He quickly opened the door and glanced down the hall to see a calm Éowyn walking away at a brisk pace. He caught up to her in a quick stride and took her arm. "My lady…" he said lowering his chin.
Éowyn did not look at him. "Grima…" the perspiration on her forehead confirmed his suspicions. "I saw you walking and thought I might escort you to your destination. These halls are some of the king's most private and I would hate for you to stumble upon some traitor with his ear to the door…"
"That would be a calamity indeed," she replied steadily but her shifty eyes told another story, "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I was going to see my brother, newly arrived and I must hurry to the stables, so I may not miss him."
"Indeed, then it will be no trouble for you to bring a message to him from me as well?"
"No, not at all."
"Tell him that he is summoned to the hall immediately." he said releasing her arm, "And Éowyn, be careful, will you not? I would hate for something to happen to you." he said his eyes searching her own, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Éowyn turned without answering and hurried to the stables, looking over her shoulder as she went. Softly, walking, feet followed her through the lonely corridors all the way to the entrance of the hall, and she shivered.
Éomer was unsaddling Brynefot when he saw Éowyn enter, pale and obviously agitated. "Éowyn?" he asked as she joined him softly rubbing Brynefot's noise as he snickered in response. He watched her closely wondering what would have caused her discomfort.
"Are you well sister? You seem ill."
"Yes, I am fine… Grima wanted me to tell you that you are summoned to the hall, immediately."
"Then I will go, in a moment. Are you sure you are well? Do you need to rest for a little while?"
"No, I will speak of it to you later. You must go to the hall, it is important; I will find the fellow a new stall."
"He can be put in Dæcer's stall," Éomer responded pensively.
"Then Dæcer is…"
"He has passed. We buried him with many men in a mound west of the holding where the battle was fought."
"Battle?"
"Press me to go, and then ask me questions?" Éomer laughed, "We will talk of it later, I must see what urgent business the king summons me for," he finished, squeezing her arm and handing her the horse's reins.
He waited in the hall, dim and hot, fidgeting in his heavy armor as he waited for the king. Soldiers that he did not recognize watched him carefully. By their seedy looks, he concluded they had been hired by Grima. He rested his hand on his sword as the king entered followed closely by Grima who sat beside him on the dais. They stared at him and the silence endured until, finally Grima spoke.
"We have heard much of your exploits, fortunate nephew of the king," the advisor said in mock solemnity.
"We have spoken on the matter, and decided that the feat was reckless, dangerous, and risky. However, you were successful and you come back to us the victor. Therefore it is the decision of this crown to give you the former title of your father. Third Marshal of the Riddermark, you will become and will be given the responsibility of the protection of the lands." Théoden said, his voice harsh.
"You will take an oath, taken by your father before you. It is an honor to be chosen thus, and perhaps you will become more learned in the art of war," Grima said the last remark with a caustic manner, biting acidity in every word.
"You honor me, my king." Éomer replied, in truth not feeling honored at all. There was nothing else to say, the position was such an honor that to many it would seem disrespect to refuse or even question it. He would have to spend much more time, perhaps weeks away from the city, away from Éowyn, and away from Grima.
Grima, he had planned it all perfectly. He had engineered everything, and now he was rid of a nuisance. How could one man's words work so much evil in a kingdom? How could he manage to ruin Éomer's plans and dreams once again? How could he afford to be away from the king so long when Théodred would be away also?
The spider had constructed the web meticulously, caught in his web; the throne was helpless, now he would suck the very blood of the kingdom out. From the dais Grima smiled smugly.
"Then what was it? If not poison why else would he serve it to the king? He has murdered before," Éomer said irritably, glaring at his sister, and nervously checking outside the door for any listeners.
"I do not know. I only know this, why would Grima kill the king if he has him so completely under his control? Why kill the only hold on the throne he has. If uncle died then Théodred would become king, and either banish Grima or… kill him," Éowyn argued keeping her voice down, still imagining to hear the pattering of sly feet on stone as they followed her.
Éomer stood silently for a moment listening at the door. They had crept in the darkness to this abandoned guest room in the farthest reaches of the hall to avoid any listeners that might be in the advisor's service. Cobwebs stood in all the corners of the room and it looked as if even the spiders had finally abandoned it.
"What bothers me more is that he is gaining more control. He could be very well giving our uncle some concoction that is not poisonous but aids in his control of him. In the past years he has grown sickly and weak as no other forebear of ours ever would at this age. What could it be if not some poison, that kills him slowly… and makes him more susceptible to our dear advisor's voice?" Éowyn whispered clutching her skirts tightly.
"Indeed. That would explain his fall into darkness of mind, and of late, soul… But what can we do Éowyn? Théodred is gone from the city ten months out of twelve, returning for rest and then going back to fight the evils that assail us on all sides. I have been appointed the third marshal of the Riddermark; but it is a curse, not a blessing. Indeed it is a curse engineered by Grima, with both of us gone who is to stand in his way?" Éomer said rubbing his head with a sigh.
Éowyn stiffened visibly at his words, and Éomer turned to her, "I do not mean to say that you are incapable my sister, only that one person alone is not enough to stand in the way of that snake."
"Then our kingdom falls into ruin… We shall fail and the proud land of the Mark will fail. If we must die --- I do not wish to die alone in the dark, but rather on a field of honor surrounded by my kin… what unhappy fate caused me to be a woman in these times I often wonder," Éowyn answered her cold voice sending a shiver up Éomer's back. He walked to her and sat by her side.
He took hold of her chin gently and made her look at him, "Éowyn, know this, that in these times a woman of strong heart is of as much value as a man of a strong arm. Perhaps we shall fail in the end, but perhaps we shall not. Perhaps we will rise above and beyond the valor of those who came before us and save the kingdom of this present darkness. I do not wish to leave you, but I cannot change the king's mind."
"You could have refused!" she yelled and then looked worriedly at the door and in a softer voice continued, "They did not make you accept the post!"
Éomer stood up angrily, "And what would you have me do? You have told me of their conversation, what else can I do but accept? If I did, you know better than I what treason they could accuse me of! I must leave before the flames become any hotter and I am devoured!"
"Then you are doing exactly what Grima wanted you to do! It will all turn out as he planned… Who is to say if he planned it out this far that he has not planned out your death as well?"
"No one, he may have, but perhaps I can avoid it until it is time to cut off his own head," Éomer said with an almost gleeful chuckle.
"Perhaps…" Éowyn answered, but she did not smile.
Note:
Hey all, I know I've been away forever, but I'm probably going to finish the first part of this story this week if possible, so be watching for more updates.
Basically this will go until Éomer's imprisonment, it will be about 15-17 chapters long
The second part will be mainly the war of the ring and his part in it, until the end of the war, or his marriage
The third part will go forseeably until his death though the kinks aren't worked out yet.
So there you go, and if you're waiting for more chapters on my other stories, I am going to try to update those too, but I am really focused on finishing this story. And if anybody noticed I changed the spacing on this chapter so that the paragraphs are not as spaced out, thanks to all my readers! Please if you haven't already press the review button down there and tell me what you thought!