Life After Death
NOTE: I don't own LOTR or any of the characters.
The moment when I felt the most pride of being my Uncle's niece had passed as Uncle Théoden signaled to Háma to have Wormtongue removed from the Golden Hall. Personally, I would have done the same thing if our roles were exchanged.
Háma gestured with his hand to one of his men to help him pick Grima Wormtongue up by his arms and remove the filth. As the men were dragging, literally, Grima to the door my Uncle followed as did almost everyone present, even I. I followed not to see what was to take place but rather to insure that my Uncle would not do something that he may regret later in his life.
It has been something that I have noted over the years that men who were often enraged, whether it is visible or more subtle, could and would do things that they would later regret. In my theory, that is how a fair amount of murders occur, but I am just a silly girl, what would I know how a man's mind works, mush less his emotions?
The doors were opened for Háma and his fellow man; they continued to drag Grima outside until the three were at the top of the stairs with my Uncle close behind.
I heard rather than saw Grima roll down the stairs; I could not very well see anything for the person who had caught me from going to my Uncle's side earlier was in front of me as well as his companions. And as normal, three out of the four were taller than I, making it a bit difficult for me to see much of anything until we were all out of the doors.
"I have only ever served you, my Lord," I heard Wormtongue say in a voice that showed a hint of his fear that he was trying to hide beneath something like pleading. I was never one for pleading or begging, to me it might that you could not handle something whether it be with consequences of your actions or with a more personal problem. Éomer had always taught me to take responsibility for my actions on any account, Théodred had seconded that notion, and it was one of the few things they agreed upon.
Once out of the door way I slipped past the Elf in front of me and stood off to the side by one of the torches and where one of the flags of Rohan had once been. I stood there watching as my Uncle limbed down the stairs menacingly after a backwards crawling Grima Wormtongue.
He, Grima Wormtongue, was frightened; I could tell by the way his body moved in an unsteady fashion of one who sensed his death coming for him despite his efforts to weddle his way out of it. I felt no sympathy for him, that snake deserved what he had coming for him!
"Your leechcrft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" King Théoden spat out at Wormtongue, completely ignoring the man's last statement. At least I have some idea on which bloodline I received that trait from, the trait that has me see through the deceits to the truth. Well, most of the time anyways, I do have my moments when my powers fail me.
"Send me not from your sight," Grima implored, still backing down the steps with each step my Uncle took toward him.
Upon him, Uncle Théoden swung his sword over his head ready to kill or mortally wound Wormtongue. For the first time I saw a primal fear expressed across Grima's face, not even my brother or cousin could cause such a reaction despite their 'secret' threats that they believed me to not be aware of.
Oh yes, my brother and cousin often threatened Wormtongue about approaching me alone or about touching me, and even with him watching me for there had been numerous instances when Grima had been watching me in a less than virtuous manner. To be completely honest, I do not like being watched, just like how I do not like the fact that the Elf is standing behind me, it makes me uneasy.
My thoughts were interrupted once again. That man, the one who prevented me earlier, was now preventing my Uncle from harming Wormtongue. Why? Why was he always interfering? First me now my Uncle, I sincerely hope that this man does not intend to interject upon an action of mine ever again for there will be words next time, and perhaps some sort of friendly warning.
"No, my Lord! No, my Lord," the man called out to my Uncle, keeping his hand over my Uncle's so that he may stop Théoden from trying to hurt Grima should he attempt to. The man muttered something to my Uncle but unfortunately it was too soft for my ears to hear.
Grima sat up a bit and, much to my surprise and I am certain to Háma's, the visitor held out his hand for Grima to take. Why was he protecting such a creature like Grima Wormtongue? Even just the mere thought of that name brought a foul taste to my mouth.
So, what does Grima Wormtongue do to show his gratitude towards this man's benevolence, something that no one else would have shown him? He spits in his hand and then runs away.
I hear someone shout, "Hail, Théoden King," but my eyes are all Grima Wormtongue as he rides away on one of our steeds. I just hope it was not one of our better ones for there is always a better, more loyal man who could ride that horse rather than Wormtongue.
Yes, I am well aware that I sound bitter and to be honest with you, I am rather bitter right now, but the bitterness is, I can assure you, overwhelmed by the joy I feel at having my Uncle returned to me.
My Uncle has turned towards the steps and he has this searching sort of expression on him, one that I have not seen in a long time. I had no idea what he was looking for but he muttered something and it caused him to search with his eyes more frantically.
Sharply he turned his face to me with a sort of firm yet slightly terrified air that told me that he had noticed something was amiss, and I could only guess one thing that was not right. Théodred was not there nor was he to be seen by anyone.
"Éowyn," he addressed me sternly but there was a gentleness to his tone that I had not heard since before Théodred had set out. "Take me to my son."
That was all I needed to hear for me to silently nod my head as I began to look down at my hands that were now trying to hide in the wind-blown folds of my dress. I did not wish to tell my Uncle once again that his son was gone but this time, my Uncle was going to respond to the news as any average parent would to the death of his or her child.
Spinning around I brushed past the Elf whose eyes traveled my form, as did, I am certain, almost everyone else's but for different reasons. As I passed Háma, he would not meet my eye except to offer me a sympathetic look, which was most definitely not what I was in need of.
Still, I led the way into the Hall and down the hallway to the sick room where the corpse of my dear cousin laid in waiting for the funeral. During the entire time I think it was starting to become clear to my Uncle what had happened to his son, and I think he knew before we even got to the door that his son was dead. How could anyone not know by the fact that the people were all in black, the color of mourning, and the fact that I was currently leading him down to the sick room?
When I laid my hand on the door knob to open the door for him, my Uncle seized my wrist and it caused me to look up into his eyes. I could just see the truth in them as clear as day light, he knew that Théodred was dead.
"Allow me a moment to see my son, alone," he instructed me. Nodding my understanding, I removed my hand from the door knob and stepped aside.
In my place stood Théoden, King of all Rohan and the father of Théodred, he seemed to be mentally preparing himself as he stood in front of the door with his forehead leaning against it.
"Tell me something Éowyn," Théoden muttered softly, his voice a little cracked with denial. "Tell me that it is not him who I am to find everyone grieving for." That tone and those words tore at my very being and I wished with all my heart that I could tell him 'yes', that it was not Théodred who the people were mourning. Alas, I could not for that would be cruel to him, to allow hopes to rise up only to be crushed by the reality that he would find on the other side of that door.
"Uncle," I began in a firm voice, "I cannot give you the reassurance that you want or need because it would be cruel to you. Also, because we both cannot go on in a world of denial, it just would not be right."
My Uncle's head turned sharply toward me, it had surprised me then but now it would not surprise me so much.
"If that is what you truly believe then go dress yourself for the funeral." Turning away, my Uncle sighed a bit. "And not as though you were attending your own wedding," he added.
That was the first time I had felt truly insulted by my Uncle's actions, who was he to tell me how to deal with my grief? Who was he to tell me that I should handle Théodred's death as though he was not someone extremely special in my life? Who was he?!
My eyes narrowed upon my Uncle as I stared hard at him, I was not going to change my attire to something 'more apporpreiate' just because he did not understand my reasons for wearing my wedding dress.
"Do not look at me like that Éowyn, you hold no more of a special bond to Théodred than anyone else," Théoden told me.
"No special bond?" I echoed in disbelief. "He was my cousin and he was my husband!" My last statement caused my Uncle to turn to me and grab my shoulders roughly.
"He was not your husband, you were not married to him child. Do not make yourself believe in something that is not true." His voice was practically pleading with me and it was not until now that I understand that he meant for me not to trap myself into a cage where I feel obligated to save myself for only Théodred. No, before anything else, my Uncle wanted me to be able to move on with my life and fall in love again so that I could marry in the future, for certain this time.
I think my Uncle realized how scared and depressed he was making me, so he softened his hold of me.
"Now, please go change into something more proper for a funeral and please put your hair up as is the custom for I want you to sing at the funeral," he instructed me, rubbing my arms.
Numbly I nodded and brushed past my Uncle, heading to my room.
Before I was out of sight, Uncle Théoden inquired, "Éowyn, where is your brother, I should very much like to speak with him as I would like to see how he fares with these turn of events."
With my back still turned to my Uncle, I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I pushed back the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. Taking a moment to recover myself, I answered his question.
"Éomer has been banished," I replied a little bit colder than what I had expected it would come out as.
"Under whose authority?" He just had to ask, did he not? Why is it that people ask the question you truly do not wish them to ask?
Glancing at him over my shoulder as I began to turn the corner, I told him, "Yours."