Life After Death
NOTE: I don't own LOTR or any of the characters.
As we approached the hall my brother stopped me by tugging on my arm.
"I think it would, perhaps, be best if you were the one to break the news to Théoden," Éomer told me. He had been like this towards my Uncle for a while now and I have often noted how little my brother said to Théoden nowadays.
I gave him a quizzical look; why would he wish me to tell our Uncle?
He must have read my expression for he hastened to explain. "He shall not listen to me, but he may listen to you, if he listens at all."
My brother had a point, out Uncle did not seem to listen to anyone, except for Grima Wormtongue whom I felt was as good as his name. I had often wondered if my Uncle hears anything that I, or anyone that is not Grima Wormtongue, says.
"I shall then," I agreed, "but do not trust to hope." It was the best advice I could give at that moment for I was unsure if I could even reach my Uncle.
"I never have," Éomer assured me before nudging me forward.
It was true; my brother had never held much hope in his life ever since our mother and father had died. Éomer spoke of hope as a soldier's weakness, whereas Théodred thought hope as a soldier's greatest strength. Personally, I have no opinion on the subject for I have never seen hope bring anything but empty promises, and I have never seen hope on the battlefield before.
We entered the hall only to find our Door Warden, Háma, speaking to our Uncle. Apparently it was not something of great importance for when he saw us, Háma quitted the hall.
He must have only been reporting Théodred's arrival to Edoras and perhaps an uncertain condition account, I thought as he brushed by, casting only a searching eye at Éomer, who did not return it.
Alone with our Uncle, I approached him first while Éomer hung back until I got our Uncle's attention. It was becoming a sort of tradition now; I got announce our presence and my brother says what he needs then leaves. However, I felt this time it would be different, and it was.
As I got closer to my Uncle I couldn't help but feel pity for him. Mourning has turned him from the tall, just man he must have been at one time to this crippled, old being that was nothing more than the outer shell of my Uncle. Still, I swallowed back my pity and touched my Uncle's shoulder to tell him physically that someone was present with him.
"My Lord," I whispered loudly in his ear, "it is your sister-son, Éomer, and sister-daughter, Éowyn, who have come bearing news of your son." His head lolled to the side a bit and I knew he had at least heard some of what I said.
Stepping back I felt, more than heard, Éomer move around behind me as I announced, "Your son is badly wounded, My Lord." As I spoke I know my brother had put a comforting hand on my shoulder for a second before moving to the other side of our Uncle.
"He was ambushed by Orcs," Éomer stated.
Our Uncle did nothing, instead he just sat there. I glanced over at Éomer; he was biting back his easily aroused temper. My brother did not like to be ignored when he had something of great importance to say and he did not like to be trifled with either, that much I learned when I was ten.
"If we don't defend our country, Saruman will take it by force," he continued, trying to make our Uncle see the danger our country was-had been-in if we did not take action soon.
"That is a lie," argued Grim as he showed himself from the shadows and approached our Uncle. "Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally."
"Grima," we heard our Lord mumble.
In all of my life there have been very few people that my brother or I truly distrusted, and Grima Wormtongue was one of them. Even my cousin, the agreeable man he was, did not like Grima Wormtongue. He had in fact once described Grima Wormtongue as a man who was in fact a snake hiding in shedded skin. My only correction to that statement would be: and one who has been kept in the dark too long. For as knelt beside my Uncle I truly saw how pale and sickly my Uncle's Councilor was.
"Orcs are roaming freely across our lands!" Éomer pointed out, catching Grima's attention again. "Uncheck. Unchallenged. Killing at will. Orcs bearing the White Hand of Saruman." To prove his point my brother threw down the helmet with the White Hand before Grima.
I glanced down at the helmet then at Grima with challenging eyes. How will he explain this?
He was surprised, that much was for certain, for his mouth hung open just slightly and his pale blue eyes spoke volumes that his voice did not. I believe I even saw him tremble for a moment.
"Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?" he asked as he bent down to my Uncle. Grima was trying to regain the upper-hand of his discussion-if one could truly call it that-that was for certain. "Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent…" He turned to Éomer with a glint in his eyes that I did not like. "…Your warmongering."
That was it! How dare he imply that my brother, my own kin, would advocate war! If anything Éomer hated war, our father died in battle and now our cousin, he did not wish to lose anymore people he cared about to battle. How dare he…If I could I would have killed Grima right then and there, but it would not have been wise for two of us to lose our composure.
"Warmongering?" Éomer echoed. I believe I heard my brother snort before he motioned to Grima to follow him to another part of the room.
My eyes followed the two. I knew something was about to happen for I knew my brother better than anyone else, except for perhaps Théodred.
It took only a matter of seconds before Éomer grabbed Grima by his robes and had him up against a pillar, hissing in the man's face. My brother's voice was low but in the hall every thing echoed, so I could hear every word as clear as a bell.
"How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price, Grima?" challenged Éomer. "When all the Men are dead, you will take your share of the treasure?"
Deciding that I had best be leaving before a battle ensued I was hurriedly leaving until I saw, out of the corner of my eye, my brother's face turn to me. I stopped and turned towards them. There it was, the look of desire in Grima's eyes that I have often seen in them ever since I had became twenty, and that was four years ago.
Disgusted with that look I turned away and continued on my way out of Meduseld, but slower, I wanted out of there but I also wanted to hear more. This time Éomer recalled the echoing of the hall and kept his voice to a growl, but this was not what bothered me. It was the men approaching my brother and Grima that bothered me most.
I left the hall but I waited outside the doors, pacing back and forth trying not to draw too much attention.
Thankfully I did not have to wait long, but Éomer did not walk out of Meduseld, he was thrown out by the men I saw earlier. Quickly I dashed to my brother's side but he held me back with an arm.
"Éomer…?" I whispered.
"Éowyn, I must leave at once," he told me as he rose to his feet and began to march down the steps quickly.
"Why must you leave when you have only just arrived?" I questioned chasing after him.
"It is none of your…" he began.
"It is my concern Éomer when it concerns you," I scolded him, following him down to the stables.
He suddenly stopped and spun around to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I have been banished," he told me.
"Banished?! By whom? Surely not Grima for he has no power here," I demanded.
"Théoden has banished me from the kingdom and I must leave at once or I will be killed," he told me setting back to his mission of retrieving his horse from his men and then setting out.
"Then I'm going with you!" I declared.
"No you shall not!" he replied.
"Yes I shall!" I argued. "There is nothing you can say to stop me."
"Éowyn listen to me, I need you to stay here and look after Théodred, make certain that nothing happens to him," Éomer commanded. "Promise me you will."
That did stop me from going. My brother was precious to me but so was my cousin; my brother was alive and well able to care for himself but Théodred was in no position to care for himself, plus I was to be his bride I should stay with my cousin.
"You have my word," I vowed as Éomer mounted his stead and the other riders followed suit.
"I know I do," he smiled. "Riders, I have been banished you do not have to follow me if you don't wish to! No oath binds you to me from this moment forth!" With that said my brother took off and all his fellow riders followed him, I know why too. They all love him as their captain and they all trust him with their lives; they would follow Éomer to their deaths.
That was the last time I saw my brother, for a while.
"My Lady," I heard someone cry out to me. Beside me rode Walda, the eldest son of the woman I was tending to, he was obviously about to follow my brother. "Can you watch over my mother until my return?"
"Walda, you cannot leave your mother and family alone here," I told him.
"But I cannot stay here either, not when I should be out there with Lord Éomer, protecting these lands despite the prospect of being killed for doing so," he reasoned with me. "Please my Lady, watch over my mother and family as much as you can until I am able to return."
"I shall do my best," I nodded. How could I refuse him when he is setting out to join my brother and protect our lands, keep them as Orc free as possible? "You have my prayers."
"And you mine," he returned before riding off to join the others.
Farwell to Walda, whose mother is a dear woman to me. Farwell to my brother Éomer, my dear strong brother who I love dearly. I do not believe I shall ever love any man more than I love Éomer and Théodred.
Thank you Celtic Bard and Michaela90 for your good reviews! I bow to you both!