Chapter 15.
When they reached the gates of the city at early evening the entry was closed to them.
"Open the gates to the third marshal of the mark!" the herald cried and after many minutes the doors slowly opened. They entered and Éomer immediately felt the oppressive weight of the city upon his shoulders.
The people on the road stared at him woefully as he and the men rode up to the stables. Unknown faces beneath the Rohirrim helmets eyed him cautiously. He heard some of the people talking as they road on.
"…the marshal, Éomer… treacherous." "They say he wants…throne for himself."
Éomer sat up straighter in his saddle and looked forward with a steely gaze. He met Éowyn in the stables. She greeted him with a half-smile but her words were cold, "So the valiant Marshal of the Folde returns to us. What time has passed? Two months?" and she turned back to the foal she was tending.
He paused at her words and led Brynefot to an empty stall, "What is his name?" he asked placing a hand on the foal's nose gently.
"Windfola," she said and her voice softened, "Uncle is much changed," she said looking up and placing a hand on Éomer's shoulder, "We have needed you here. Grima has more control than ever," she stopped as a messenger approached.
"My lord Éomer, you are summoned to the king."
Éomer nodded to Éowyn, "We will speak later," he said simply and left.
Éowyn glared at him and continued to tend the foal. She shook her head growled and hurried to catch up with her brother. They entered by a side door and Éomer almost stopped short, shocked by the old, wasted man that sat on the throne. He and Éowyn stopped three feet from the dais.
"Welcome Éomer, favored marshal of the Mark," the king said in a barely audible voice, his mouthopening only slightlyas he spoke.
Grima stood up and glared at Éomer, "What brings the third marshal from his duties in the Folde? Have you abandoned them completely and exposed us to the enemy?"
Éomer stepped forward and looked Grima in the eyes, "The enemy? I have come to inform the king of a far greater treachery than the one you speak of. This comes from a minion of Saruman. His sign of the white hand is clearly shown on the front," he said holding out the helmet and dropping it on the dais stairs.
Grima stiffened and his tongue darted out wetting his pale lips, "That is a lie. This is obviously a plot of Mordor to break our alliance with Orthanc and make us vulnerable to an attack from them," he straightened and his words grew more confident, "I am surprised that you could not think of that on your own without the king's help. Truly he is the wisest of the wise, and you bear little resemblance to him," Grima added sarcastically and set his hand on the king's shoulder.
Éomer started forward his hands clenching, but Éowyn stopped him with a warning gesture.
Grima spoke again, "Is there any other issue to discuss or are you in need of ridding us of more time, and risking the duty of your post?"
Éomer boiled within, steam rising through his body. He turned quickly and left without another word. Éowyn watched as Grima smiled at her and then at the king, "Look my lord and lady at the lack of respect your nephew holds for the king," Éowyn left before Grima finished.
She searched the stables and the hall until a soldier directed her to the watch towers near the gates. Brusquely she brushed past the gate wardens and found her brother watching the plains, before the gates. She stood by him silently and waited for him to speak. His eyes reflected the sun setting before them, the burning fire tangible.
"I did not think he would change so much. His health is failing, he looks as if he will live only another year," Éomer said trying hard to keep his voice from cracking.
"Yes, as he withers, Grima gains more control," Éowyn said coldly.
Éomer grabbed her by the shoulders, "How can you stand there and state that with such frozen carelessness? What has possessed you of late Éowyn, do you care nothing for the kingdom? Or me? Has your heart grown that cold?"
"You left me here, alone to try and defend the whole city from that snake's devious plans. While you are off in the Folde, I have had to watch the king suffer under a dozen torments, and grow more senile with each passing day. Tell me Éomer what is my power, what can I do! This noble country can look after itself; I wish a hundred times that I was dead on some battle field, that I could take out my anger, and die nobly with honor. I will not die old and abandoned like our uncle! I will not perish with dried porridge on my dress and gray hair, I would rather take my own life than suffer that fate," she whispered angrily at him and wrested free of his grip.
"Whether you realize it or not sister, that advisor has more control over you than you surmise. Who put those thoughts in your head do you think? The same man who poisons the king's ears every day. He is so obvious in his desire for you I wish to wring his neck."
"Yes and be banished from the kingdom in a minute. More men have been replaced as soldiers than any year past," she said smirking but glanced around to see if one might be listening.
A small commotion stopped Éomer's response and he looked down warily. The soldiers shouted and Éomer could faintly see the outline of a bent figure outside the gates. A few soldiers a yard away began to speak together.
"It is only the old beggar. Grima said yesterday to keep him out, that he is an ill-conceived spy sent from Sauron," one said leaning against his spear.
"Old beggar?" Éomer asked peering down again.
"Yes my lord, he came last night seeking shelter from the cold. But a message came from Grima forbidding him to enter."
"Let him in," Éomer said simply.
"What, but my lord…"
"Are you deaf? Let him in! Grima was mistaken," Éomer said but the soldier looked unconvinced, "Soldier, I am the Third Marshal of the Mark, grandson of Thengel and Morwen. I am nephew of the king himself, firstborn to his favorite sister. Choose quickly to heed me, or choose quickly a grievous punishment."
The soldier nodded and shouted the order down to the men at the ground level. Éomer and Éowyn quickly rushed down the stairs and stood waiting as the gates slowly creaked open. The wizened figure almost fell to the ground, but Éomer caught him and drew him up.
"Gandalf?" he whispered.
The man nodded, "You are Éomer. I thank you for saving my fall. If you would not mind, I am in dire need of rest. Could you lead me to some quarters?"
Éomer looked at Éowyn nervously and they began to lead him away from the gates, "Shut the gates, I will see to this man. Do not open for any other until the morn," Éomer said and turned back to leading Gandalf.
They took him around to the side door of Edoras that the servants used and led him down a narrow hall. The brother and sister stopped for a moment thinking, "He can stay in my room tonight. I dare not let Grima know he is here, though he will surely find out by the rising of the sun," Éomer said.
"Where will you sleep?"
"On the ground, that way I can keep an eye on him. It would be best if you go to the court and distract Grima and the king. They will want to know where I am. That should give me enough time to transfer the wizard to my room," Éomer said hurriedly starting off with the old man in tow. Éowyn nodded and went back the way she had come, to enter the Great Hall.
It took some time for Éomer to drag the wizard secretly through the halls to his own room. He avoided servants as he could, especially the ones he did not recognize from his past visits and quietly opened the doors that led to the main hallway. His room was close, and they entered it with barely a sound. Éomer shut the door behind them. He laid Gandalf on the bed and sat down on the foot of the bed wearily.
"I thank you Éomer. My strength has left me for this day," the wizard sat up and looked at Éomer, "My business has been somewhat confusing of late. I went to an old friend for advice and found myself caught in a treacherous web."
"Saruman?" Éomer asked quietly.
The grey wizard looked up surprised, "Yes. How could you know that?"
Éomer had never seen a wizard surprised before and he almost laughed, "His treachery surrounds us here. I believe Grima is a servant of his, but I have no proof that would persuade the king that we are being attacked by the very wizard his advisor tells him is a faithful ally."
Gandalf nodded with understanding, "That might be so. I have been blind to his treachery. When I heard rumors, I dismissed them as folly. He has always been a friend and ally of mine. That such corruption could be found in the council…" the wizard's speech died off for a moment and then renewed, "But I must leave her quickly. I have an errand to finish that must not be delayed, and the more time I spend talking, the more time Saruman has to deceive everyone."
Éomer nodded, "I had hoped that you would be able to help us. But I realize this mission must be far more important."
"It is."
"Well then we shall have to see the king after all. I cannot secretly give you anything to help on your journey. We must rely on the fact that Wormtongue is still very afraid of you. You must put in a grand performance tomorrow if you are to succeed."
"Yes, I think you are correct. For that I must have rest, so I think I will turn in for the night, if you do not mind," the wizard said settling comfortably down into Éomer's bed.
Éomer stood up and took an extra blanket from the foot of the bed. He locked the door and then spread the blanket on the ground. He changed in the adjoining room and then lay down for the night, cold and exhausted.
Note: Hey guys, hoped you enjoyed this chapter… Gandalf comes to Edoras from his capture on Orthanc….
Curious fact: Orthanc means cunning mind in the tongue of the Rohirrim. Thanks for all the reviews. Please keep them coming! I will be writing to you guys in the notes in future chapters.