Chapter XI

I ate the contents of the tray as Krane had asked and settled back into the bed, snuggling deeper into the thick coverlet.

I tried to sleep, but I soon gave up as the smell of the bloodied burning dress was overpowering and made me think. It had my mind replaying all that I did not care to think about, much less remember.

I slipped out of bed, and taking the coverlet with me like a coat, stepped out of my room toward the back porch where I could watch the stars.

Unsurprisingly, no one was there. I sat, in a fit of nostalgia, on the same bench that Éowyn and I had sat upon on my first day in Edoras. Stars, how things had changed then. I was an ignorant little girl then. I looked down at the coverlet under which my body was hidden. I had changed a great deal since those auspicious beginnings that had soon turned to averse beginnings. I turned my head starward. The stars were bright tonight, and the moon illuminated everything in a pale freezing light.

I cannot remember how long I remained there, looking upwards, but at one point, I heard a door close on the porch, and there stood Éowyn in a nightgown, bearing a lighted candle, which was promptly blown out by the wind.

"You were not in your room, Ardeas, so I thought you might be out here." Her voice held a hint of warmth and amusement, "You always liked watching the stars." She took a cautious step toward me as I made no reply, "Would you mind it terribly if I joined you?"

I shook my head. "I shan't mind," I said quietly.

She moved next to me and sat down and set the candlestick beside her.

"I wanted to talk to you about a certain subject."

"I suspected as much," I said a little more sharply than I had intended. She gave me an odd look, but continued.

"I wanted to talk to you about Morwyn."

"That is hardly a surprise."

She paused, but proceeded, "Would you talk to me about her?"

"What do you want to know about her?" I said, keeping my eyes upward, taking in all of the starlight I could. Éowyn watched me with an unnamed emotion in her eyes.

"Did you know you why you should not have continued your relationship with her?"

"Yes, I believe I do. She said something about the fact that her father was a convicted murderer. I suppose the deeds of one's father determine how one should be treated," I replied coldly and sarcastically.

That left us in an uncomfortable silence. "Do you know who he murdered?"

I looked at her for the first time, "To be honest, I don't really care. But please tell me if you feel so inclined." I knew she could hear the sarcasm rampant in my voice.

"He murdered a pregnant woman and her two year old toddler."

"That does nothing to excuse the court's behavior. What Morwyn's father is was disgusting, vile, and awful, but I don't believe Morwyn killed those three people."

Éowyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat and glanced at the practice field and the plains beyond it.

"But that isn't the point Ardeas..."

I stood and glared at her, "Then please tell me! What is the point! I for one would be most eager to hear it!"

"Ardeas, please calm down. Sit down."

I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes angrily, keeping my face toward the view, before sitting down next to Éowyn again.

She began, "Maybe the court was not exactly right in our management of Morwyn-"

"Understatement," I muttered, but she shot a quelling look at me.

"May I continue?" she asked sardonically.

I nodded. "As I said before, it is possible the court was not exactly right in our management of Morwyn, but what were we to think?"

I resisted an urge to comment.

"Morwyn's father had a strong influence over her. It was very possible that she may have turned on somebody."

And I am sure shunning her and allowing her to stew in her own thoughts was the best thing to do, I thought.

"We cannot have murderers running rampant in Meduseld. That is why Uncle encouraged us to shun Morwyn and to not get close to her so that she could not get close to any of us and have opportunities to, well..."

"It is reason, I will give you that, but it is, at best, a poor reason for your dealings with Morwyn. Had you not considered that treating her lovingly would probably not have raised her to be a murderer? And if you had not hated her, the court would have caused one less death."

"The court caused the death indirectly," Éowyn stiffened.

"Yet they were the principle reason for the death. I fail to see how the court caused the death indirectly," I said in a mocking tone of voice.

"Ardeas," her voice warned, "I don't believe I care for your tone."

"I don't believe I care for your attitudes. Forgive me, Éowyn. I need to take a walk." And with that final end to the conversation, I leapt up, leaving my coverlet behind, and made for the steps down to the practice field where I could wander for a while.

As I stepped lightly down the stairs, I heard take her candlestick, leave the bench, and go indoors toward her own quarters.

The night was peaceful and soothing, but at the same time cold and empty, an unusual feeling all in itself. With the exception of the wind, which always seemed to be blowing in Edoras, the night was silent. The light of the moon shown brightly on the practice field, but it seemed to be a cold light: heartless and betraying. I turned my face up and stared at the moon. And for no reason of which I could think, I began to laugh. I laughed at Rourn and Findulwyn. I laughed at Théodred's dislike of me. I laughed at my friendship with Éowyn. I laughed at Krane and his defense of myself. I laughed at Mortelia's dislike of me. I laughed at Théoden's becoming the father figure in my life. I laughed at my befriending of Morwyn. I laughed at Mlandra's dead body, cold in the grave. I laughed at Morwyn's suicide in front of my very eyes. And I laughed at myself.

I suddenly shut my mouth and felt very foolish. I turned away, retrieved the coverlet, and returned to my room to sleep.

AN: I researched online for book stuff on Grima, and I got nothing on Grima's original origins, so I assume that Tolkien did not write about those. This chapter was very short, but I still find it important, and I thought it was important enough to put by itself, even though I try to keep my chapters at least 5 or 6 pages long. And I think the chapter means more by itself anyway. I know the first few chapters aren't very good and my little revisions shall have to be revised again as I still am not satisfied with them and by God I will finish this story before beginning another one, but I sincerely hope the last few chapters were at least somewhat enjoyable. If anyone does know anything about Grima's origins or where I can read more about him, do not hesitate to tell me. And as always, please review, and state whether it's good or bad. Anything negative other than constructional criticism shall be used to burn my collection of Nancy Drew books, which I bought in a flurry of stupidity when I was 8.

PS has anyone read the fountainhead by ayn rand?