Chapter 19.
Many eyes had watched him as he rode up the path with his men. The people of Edoras stared at the makeshift bed they carried between two horses that bore the body of Théodred. His face was white and his chest was still. The soldiers at the gate had not questioned them this time, and the guards at the doors to the hall did not delay them. Éomer helped another soldier to carry in the cot. He suddenly wished that Dengal had not planned his wedding to Hild for this week; he wanted his captain's support before the king.
As he entered he saw the king slumped on the throne, and his sister behind him like the sole beacon of light and hope in the whole place. Grima was also there, and he stood as they approached, mock grief written in his features, but for a small gleam in his eyes which seemed to Éomer a spark of happiness. Éowyn descended swiftly from the stairs and approached the cot. For the first time in many years a tear dripped down from her eye, and fell upon Théodred's blue lips. Her long fingers stroked his lifeless digits. Éomer could not speak as he saw the look of hurt and hopelessness that so described his own feelings, in her eyes.
He gave his own corner of the cot to another soldier and approached the throne, "My lord, my uncle… you son Théodred is dead. He and his men were caught by surprise, the force from Saruman was much larger than any could have expected. The Fords are still being defended by your faithful servants Grimbold and Elfhelm," he paused and sought to gather his thoughts, Grima watched him closely, "My lord, I could not come quickly enough to help him and his men. Your son wanted to stay and defend the Fords until I came…I am sorry," he said choking as he spoke. All the emotions from his life came flooding over him like a tidal wave.
Grima approached the throne and set a hand on the King's, "My lord I am afraid all is true, your son is dead… he would have not fallen had his reinforcements come, but he stood valiantly until the end. This is a foul blow, especially when only this week Shadowfax has returned wild and untamed, allowing no man to touch him. Tis a wonder anyone would trust a wizard with that horse."
Éowyn spoke quietly with a tear still shining on her cheek like a piece of crystal ice, "My brother Éomer would have come with adequate numbers if you had not ignored his warning and the warning of Gandalf. They told you of Saruman's treachery Grima and you ignored it. Tis no one's fault save your own that Théodred is dead," she said bitterly, her eyes piercing Grima to the bone.
Grima looked hurt and stunned and did not have time to answer, Éomer ordered the soldiers to take the body to a room to be prepared for burial. Then he and his soldiers left. The soldiers had habitation in the city and Éomer decided they would stay until more news came from the Fords. He and Éowyn sat by the bedside of Théodred for many hours. No words were needed, Éomer could not describe his grief to her or show it outwardly, and it was not in his nature. In his heart he knew she understood. She did not cry again, but sat softly stroking Éomer's hand.
The next morning scouts came from Aldburg, but they did not bring the news that he had hoped. Elfhelm and Grimbold still held the fords but news of a group of orcs coming down from Emyn Muil had reached scouts. It was a large group of at least forty orcs, and some of the Uruks. Éomer brought the news immediately to Théoden. The king's appearance had not changed, and it seemed that the news of his son's death had not yet hit home.
"Absolutely not!" Grima said, raising his voice at Éomer's request. "We have just suffered a most grievous loss at the death of the only heir to the throne, we will not have you gallivanting off with no solid proof of an attack."
"My dear Grima, I will not be gallivanting, I will be stopping a large, confirmed, group of enemies from attacking our country? For what other purpose was I assigned to my post as Third marshal of the Mark than to do just this?"
"You were assigned to you post in order to protect the Folde and to follow the king's orders."
"Then what are they, I have not heard him speak yet?"
Théoden raised his head slightly and in a mumbled voice spoke to Grima, "The king wishes you to stay in Edoras," Grima said triumphantly, "And if I were you Éomer," Grima said drawing closer to him, "I would obey the orders. You are already under severe scrutiny, and I do believe the punishment for treason is death."
"Are you threatening me Wormtongue?"
"I never threaten, my dear Éomer, I promise," he said his voice dangerous and his eyes alight with an inner fire.
His hands were covered with blood. "I cannot stay," his mother's eyes staring into his as the words echoed over and over again. "I cannot stay. I cannot stay. I cannot stay…" and then silence, darkness. He could smell sweat and blood and death. His father's eyes staring into his, and then closing, his cracked lips moving, "I cannot stay. I cannot stay. I cannot stay…" then silence, darkness. The blood was still there on his hands and the smell made him wish he were dead.
Suddenly, Théoden was there slumped and bent with age and sickness, he looked at Éomer sadly and did not say anything. He simply sat and stared at him through dead eyes. The eyes turned into Théodred's own, he lay there in a pile of his own blood staring at Éomer. His hands held the axe that had bit through his stomach. "I must stay… I must stay for Éomer's coming."
Éowyn's hand was upon his shoulder. She took his hands but withdrew horrified looking at the blood that stained them. Her eyes met his, an icy, blue stare. "I cannot stay. I cannot stay. I cannot stay…" she walked away, her white dress fluttering in a nonexistent breeze, the bright white a stark contrast to the darkness.
Éomer reached out his hands, but they were turned black with dried blood, and then he collapsed.
Éomer awoke with gasping breaths, curled into a tight ball. His chest was constricted and sweat dripped from his forehead. It was early morning and the pale spring sun was rising outside of his room slowly. He heard a rooster from so village farm down in the valley. He saw Théodred again, laying, dying, and waiting for him. He knew that he could not let those orcs pass through Rohan and kill another person. He would not live with the blood of innocent people on his hands. Hope had been lost when Théodred had died. Let Grima imprison him, banish him, kill him… he would not let Grima kill any other person through lack of action.
He left the Golden Hall cautiously and told the few people he met that he was returning to Aldburg. He found many of his men quickly and they found the others. By the time the sun had risen over the fields, his éored was galloping away towards Emyn Muil, and the band of orcs. For what task they had been sent through the land he did not know, but Éomer did know that they would not complete it.
They halted near noon, and scouts who had been sent ahead; quickly found that a large group of orcs had come from Emyn Muil. Éomer stood up and faced his men who were sitting and eating.
"My faithful men, you have followed me many places, but now I do not think it fair for you to follow me without knowing the full consequences of your actions. I have been told that if I pursue this group of orcs and detain it that I will be thrown in prison, and possibly killed. I will not force any man to follow me against his will. So I bid you to choose, follow me and stop these orcs from committing grave crimes against us or return to Aldburg to the captain Dengal," Éomer finished and sat down again beside his horse.
An older soldier named Éothain stood up and addressed Éomer, "My lord, we will serve out our duty to you and our country, if we do not slay these orcs it is greater treason to Rohan then to disobey the king's orders and leave them be. We have all talked of it before you said anything and agreed we will all stay."
"Thank you Éothain, thank you all. If you are truly resolved, then let us ride for the enemy has not rested this whole time, and they will be nearing the outskirts of Fangorn forest. We will surround and attack them in the night."
The éored mounted up silently and followed the orc's trail towards the forest. The group spotted them and with a loud cry they struggled to escape from the horsemen. Éomer ordered the archers to pick off the stragglers one by one, and many fell unheeded by the rest of the group. A few orc archers responded in kind but the horsemen wheeled out of range of their arrows and then began their assault again. The sunset came, but the Rohirrim did not close in yet, but simply picked off all the orcs that lagged behind. They were coming upon the darkness of the forest. Éomer ordered them to stop for a while when the orcs seemed to be gaining strength in the darkness. He had fires built up out of bowshot from the orcs, who had also stopped at the eaves of the forest. It was either a choice to face the Rohirrim or enter into Fangorn. He had not counted on such a large group.
When they were settled down, Éomer took with him a few me and crawled to the edge of the hill where the orcs camped. There they slew several orcs and then signaled for their horses and galloped back to their camp. The best strategy was to kill as many as possible before real battle would have to be waged. A great outcry from the scouts who found the dead orcs set the whole camp of Rohirrim laughing.
Suddenly a company of orcs, at least thirty, who were not part of the group they had been chasing, attacked them. The riders fought them off, but were slowly being forced into the camp of the other orcs. The battle could not wait until full morning though it was growing lighter every moment. The new group was finally killed off, but the Uruks next to the forest were a different matter.
One of them had already killed five men. Éomer sliced through several orcs with his sword and speared two, but still the strong Uruk stood defending himself and slaying others. The third Marshal of the Mark dismounted and drew near brandishing his sword. The Uruk saw his keen glance and put up his own blackened blade. They sparred until a stroke set the orc off balance and Éomer's sword penetrated his helmet at the eyes, stabbing through and instantly killing him. Dawn had come and the archers of his company chased the orcs who ran. The others carried the enemies' bodies and put them in a pile to be burned.
They had lost fifteen men and twelve horses, more than they had in many battles. Their bodies were buried in a mound and their spears stuck in the ground in a circle to ward off any evil. The deed had been done, but as he looked towards the mountains, he wondered at what cost.
Note: Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, just one more until the end, and then I'll answer all your reviews and thank you profusely for your encouragement. I will be editing all the chapters for congruency and grammar and then trying to finish The princess bride meets the Lotr. I will be revamping that story, combining chapters etc, so I probably will just turn it into a new story and upload the chapters that way, just in case any of you have been waiting for that update. Thanks again!