As the sun rose, the Rohirrim ate their meagre breakfast and then mounted to continue their journey.
"Have you considered what we are to do?" Éothain asked Éomer as he moved his horse up beside Éomer's mount.
"I think that we should go north to find Elfhelm – and then across the Snowbourne to seek out Erkenbrand and his men. We need to muster as many as we can, if we are to go back and free our land from Saruman's hold." Éomer's brow furrowed as he spoke. Éothain nodded silently in reply.
They had ridden for a couple of hours after sunrise and had just passed a large boulder of rocks when a man's voice called out to them in their own tongue: "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"
Éomer turned his head and saw a tall, dark-haired man dressed as a ranger standing near the boulder. Two others – a dwarf and an elf – appeared behind him. Where did they spring from? Did they just grow out of the ground?
Éomer lifted his spear, signalling his men to turn and the riders encircled the three well-armed strangers, pointing their spears at them. Éomer steered Firefoot through the ranks and as he halted his horse, he spoke to the strangers in the common tongue, his commanding voice demanding an answer.
"What business does an elf, a man and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"
The dwarf looked defiantly up at him. "Give me your name, Horse Master, and I shall give you mine!"
The man put a restraining hand on the dwarf's shoulder and looked calmly at Éomer. Who is he? A ranger from the North by his appearance – but what is he doing here and together with those two?
Éomer jumped from the saddle and walked towards the dwarf, his eyes flaring dangerously. "I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," he snarled.
The elf put an arrow to his bow, so fast that Éomer had no time to react, and hissed: "You would die before your stroke fell."
At this, the Rohirrim moved in closer, pointing their spears menacingly at the three strangers. Tension was palpable, as the elf and Éomer tried to outstare each other and the man put a hand to the elf's arrow, restraining it, shaking his head warningly at the elf. He turned towards Éomer.
"Please excuse my friends. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. The dwarf is Gimli, son of Gloín and this is Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden, your king," he said sternly and his blue-grey eyes flashed, as he looked straight at Éomer.
Looking into Aragorn's eyes, Éomer got strangely convinced that he could trust the man and he decided to shed his suspicions, at least towards him. He sighed inaudibly.
"Théoden no longer recognises friend from foe." Removing his helmet, he paused and closed his eyes briefly as if in pain before he continued. "Not even his own kin. I am Éomer, son of Éomund, the king's nephew." He raised his head proudly.
He gave his men the sign to raise their spears and again addressed the man, who called himself Aragorn. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over his lands. We are constantly under attack from his hordes; Rohan is vulnerable, and we have to be on our guard. I am sure that you will understand our apprehension."
Éomer looked around at his men and then back at Aragorn: "My company are those loyal to Rohan and for that we are banished." He moved his gaze and looked straight at the elf, not yet able to shred his suspicion towards him. By tradition, the Rohirrim were wary towards the elves, as they were only infrequent visitors to their land and the Rohirrim had no real dealings with them. Éomer did, however, understand and speak Sindarin. He had been taught by his mother when he was a boy.
He continued, his voice still strained: "The white wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked – and everywhere his spies slip past our nets." He looked into the elf's clear blue eyes, as if he dared him to speak, but the elf kept his silence, just looking calmly back at Éomer.
In stead Aragorn spoke, his voice sounding almost painful: "We are no spies. We track a party of uruk-hai westward across the plains. They have taken two of our friends captive. Saruman is our enemy, too. The uruks are his servants. We have been on their trail since Amon Hen three days hence."
Éomer looked at him, shaking his head slightly. "Amon Hen – but that is forty leagues from here? And you have pursued these creatures on foot ever since? Aragorn, son of Arathorn – Wingfoot I should name you!" he said with a curt laugh void of mirth.
Then he added, "Your pursuit has ended; the uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."
At this, the dwarf looked appalled and burst out. "But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?"
Éomer raised an eyebrow quizzically: "Hobbits? Do you mean – Halflings? No .. I have only heard tales of them, but never seen any …."
Aragorn nodded, indicating the size with his hand: "Yes, halflings – they would be small, only children to your eyes."
"We saw none so small, of that I am sure – but we left none alive; we piled the carcasses and burned them." Éomer said solemnly and pointed out over the plains where they could see smoke rising.
Gimli looked at him and shook his head in disbelief. "Dead?" he said. Legolas, the elf, put a hand on his friend's shoulder and Aragorn stared blankly ahead of him.
Éomer nodded emphatically: "I am sorry; we did not know ..." Then he made a decision, turned and whistled: "Hasufel, Arod." Two horses were lead through from behind the ranks.
He gave the reins of both horses to Aragorn. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. This is the only help that a banished Marshal of the Mark can offer you at the moment." He bowed his head to them: "Farewell."
He put his helmet back on, went to his horse and mounted. He turned in the saddle and looked at the three companions. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." He said, the bitterness very evident in his voice.
Then he called out, as he spurred on Firefoot: "We ride north!"
They met no resistance as they rode north. They found Elfhelm's encampment and made camp themselves. Erkenbrand and his men had joined Elfhelm upon hearing the news from Edoras that Éomer had been banished; Gamling had managed to get word to them. They were both prepared to join them, and so were their men. None of them questioned or protested Éomer's decisions.
Éomer and the other marshals met in Éomer's tent. They all agreed that Edoras was vulnerable, if indeed Saruman's hordes would set in an attack. The Royal Guard would be loyal to the king and lady Éowyn and protect them, should Grima and his men try to harm them, but were too few to stand against a massive attack on the city.
"Hama and Gamling are loyal; they will not betray Théoden – although there is not much that they can do at the moment except for keeping sane," Éomer remarked to Éothain and his father's old friend, Erkenbrand. They both agreed.
"We need to find a plan; we must go back to Edoras and throw out the worm and his followers. It will not be easy; he is protected by Saruman and I fear that Saruman will unleash all his power over Rohan, if we do not do something quickly!" Éomer emphasised.
Erkenbrand looked at his old friend's son. He looked so much like his father – and Erkenbrand knew that he possessed the same courage, determination and temper. But he was sure that, contrary to Éomund, Éomer would remain calm and focus on the task ahead of him; he would curb his inclination to storm Edoras and kill Grima and his followers, even though there was nothing he would like better. If indeed Théodred dies, he will be a worthy heir to the throne, and one day a worthy king, Erkenbrand mused. And his men will follow him to death.
"Your father would have stormed Meduseld by now," Erkenbrand said aloud with a small smile on his lips, as he clasped the young marshal's arm.
"I know – but I cannot afford that; Éowyn is still there. Théodred as well – and the king." Éomer looked solemnly at the older marshal in whose éored he had learned the trade of a leader of men as second in command before he was appointed marshal. Éomer had started his career as a rider with Théodred's éored at age sixteen, but at one point, the king had decided that the two cousins should be split up and had ordered Éomer to join Erkenbrand's éored, as he felt that Erkenbrand would be able to turn Éomer into the commander that he would want his nephew to be.
A couple of days went by and plans began to form; they had by now a considerable force. Éomer and the other marshals, who also had decided to condemn themselves to banishment, were in Éomer's tent discussing their plans, when they heard hooves and the shouts of the men. "The White Wizard!"
They grabbed their weapons and ran outside, expecting to find Saruman – and met an unexpected sight. Indeed, it was the White Wizard, but this wizard was not Saruman. He was riding Shadowfax, the horse that had been reluctantly lent to Gandalf the Grey by Théoden King a long time ago.
"Gandalf!" Éomer exclaimed. "Why come you here? And you are so changed?"
"Aye, Éomer, son of Éomund. It is indeed a long story and it will have to wait! I come to you at this hour to bid you to come to the aid of the king. He has been freed of Saruman's grasp and is leading his people to Helm's Deep. It is likely that Saruman will be unleashing all his forces on the fortress. Gather your men, we must make haste to rescue your people! We have no time to lose!"
"You forget that the king banished me. Do you think that he will now want my help?" Éomer said bitterly.
"Éomer! Rohan needs you now. Your banishment was the work of Saruman not of your uncle; you must know that! Whether your uncle would want your help or not, is not important. Rohan needs your help! You and your Riders are the only hope that your people have!"
Éomer made up his mind quickly and turned, shouting to his men. "Break camp and saddle up! The king and our people need us. We must make haste – to Helm's Deep!"
He sheathed his sword and ran to his tent to find his helmet and spear. He hurried back outside and found the wizard dismounted, enjoying a drink of water. "Gandalf," he said, "Did you see my sister? And Théodred?"
The old wizard looked at the young man, examining his face and flashing eyes. You were indeed born to greater deeds, young Marshal, he mused. Loud he said, "Your sister is fine; she is on her way to Helm's Deep with the people – but your cousin is dead. He died in his sleep, the night after you left Edoras, Éowyn told me. She believes that Grima might have killed him; she believes that he was getting better. We buried him before I left Edoras. I believe that you are now the king's heir. And thus even more needed at the king's side."
Éomer clenched his fists and bowed his head, grief almost choking him - Théodred dead! Although, he had expected it; his cousin's wounds had been too terrible. Then he lifted his head and went over to Firefoot. He mounted and called out to his men: "We ride! To Helm's Deep!"
During a brief stop to water their horses, Gandalf told Éomer what had happened at Edoras. How he had met up with Aragorn and the others, who had thought him dead in Moria and how they had arrived at Edoras and freed the king from Saruman's hold.
Éomer told Gandalf that he had met the three companions and that he had given them horses.
"Aragorn told me so during our journey from Fangorn to Edoras," Gandalf nodded, "and he also told me of your banishment. Aragorn shares your opinion that open war against the enemy cannot be avoided; he tried to convince your uncle to meet the enemy head on, and that you were loyal to him and that you would come to his aid, if he sent for you, but I fear that your uncle's pride got the better of him. He refused to send for you so I decided that I would go. Besides, your people are better served with Aragorn being at Helm's Deep than I."
"Gandalf, you seem to have a lot of confidence in the ranger. Who is he? Although, he seemed to me no ordinary ranger – he had an air about him that suggested something more than just that?"
Gandalf looked at the young marshal. "In that you are right, Éomer. Aragorn is of Numénorian descent. He is the Chieftain of the Dunédain in the North, and he is the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor."
"So it is true then, the heir of Isildur lives." Éomer nodded solemnly, "and it is not just a myth of old!"
"Aye, and he is our hope in our fight against Sauron for the survival of Middle Earth – he and a little hobbit." Gandalf told Éomer the story of the Fellowship and their quest to destroy the Ring, and what had happened since the Ring had set out from the Shire.
For the remainder of the day and most of the night, they rode hard and at first light on the fifth day, as Gandalf had promised Aragorn, the riders of Rohan and the wizard pulled their horses to a stop on the hillside overlooking Helm's Deep.
A terrible battle was raging below them. They saw that the king and Aragorn fought alongside each other in a courageous attempt to keep the uruks from taking the Deep entirely. Éomer gasped as he saw the breach in the wall. Could it really be so that someone had been able to break the defence of the Deep? Another thing that surprised him was that Fangorn Forest now seemed so close to Helm's Deep. He did not remember that this had been so before. He shook off the thought; it had been a long time since he had been at the Hornburg.
Gandalf rode to the top of the hillside and showed himself against the rising sun. He called out, "Théoden King stands alone!"
Éomer rode up behind him. "Not alone!" he said, drawing his sword. Hoisting it in the air he called out: "Rohirrim! To the king!"
Led by Éomer and Gandalf, the Rohirrim charged down the hillside as the sun came over the ridge. They hit the uruk forces with tremendous force and the rage born of a challenged people. Soon the uruks were fleeing in panic.
Éomer and his men joined with the defenders of Helm's Deep in the pursuit of the uruks and looked in wonder and disbelief as the uruk-hai were absorbed by the forest, which now seemed to have come alive. The trees were moving, bending and squeaking and all that could be heard besides this was the screams of the uruks.
"Do not pursue them; stay out of the forest. Keep away from the trees!" Éomer shouted, as he stared in disbelief at the spectacle before them. Soon everything became quiet; the battle was over. Only a rattle as if of leaves in the wind could be heard.
Éomer saw his uncle and rode up to him. The king looked weary, but he acknowledged his nephew and reached out his hand to clasp his. "Thank you, sister-son, for coming to our aid," he said quietly.
"It was only my duty, my Lord – as a Marshal of the Mark." Éomer said, his voice shaking from emotion. "Where is Éowyn?" he inquired, as he saw no sign of her. He would have imagined that she would have wanted to fight alongside the men and that he would have found her with a sword in her hand.
"In the caves protecting the other women and the children." The king said. In spite of the seriousness of the situation and the death around them, Éomer could not help saying with a smirk, "Oh, she must be really pleased about that!"
Théoden smiled, a sad little smile. "Indeed, she did not like it. Éomer, I trust that you have heard that your cousin is …"
"Yes, Gandalf told me. I am so sorry, uncle, that I could not protect him. I regret that I did not do more to hold him back. I failed him."
"Do not blame yourself, Éomer. It was none of your doing; you did what you could and I am so ashamed that I, although unknowingly, signed the order of your banishment – and that I did not listen to you."
"I know, uncle. Say no more."
Théoden looked around him. "So much death," he whispered. He seemed to straighten his shoulders and called for Gamling, who as usual was at the king's side. "Gamling, we need to make arrangements for burying our people - and the elves. Have the men make pyres to burn those cursed creatures." He pointed to the bodies of the uruks. Gamling nodded. "Aye, my Lord – I shall see to it."
He looked at Éomer and acknowledged him with an inclination of his head. Éomer smiled; he knew what his older friend felt. He turned in the saddle to see Aragorn coming towards him. He looked all bloody and battle worn. Éomer addressed him.
"Thank you, my Lord, for rescuing my people. Had I known who you were, I might have treated you all with a little more respect when we first met."
Aragorn grinned and made a depreciating gesture: "I am no more or no less than you, Marshal of the Mark. And as for the rescuing, it seems to me that it was you who came to our rescue."
They rode into the courtyard and dismounted among the many corpses of men, elves and uruk-hai. Éomer closed his eyes as he saw many of those, whom he had known since he was a boy, lying dead. Aragorn understood his feelings. He had the same feelings as he watched the elves that had come to their aid and now were lying dead amidst the corpses of men and orcs.
As they walked across the courtyard, they stopped briefly as they encountered the dwarf and the elf arguing over the number of uruk-hai, they had killed. Éomer looked startled at them.
"Do not mind them; they are always like that – it is an ongoing challenge." Aragorn said and Éomer chuckled.
He looked up as a large number of women and children appeared from the entrance to the caves. He recognised a woman, who was leading an old woman by the arm. Wenda. He blushed thinking about the last time he had seen her. As she passed him, she looked up but gave no evidence that she knew him; she just went past him. Somehow he was pleased that she had made it – and also that she did not make a spectacle of meeting him. Not that he was ashamed of having bought her services; he was only ashamed of the last night he had spent with her.
Aragorn had noticed his reaction and looked inquisitively at him, but as Éomer did not offer any explanation, he did not say anything. Éowyn appeared just as they were ascending the stairs; she ran to Aragorn and embraced him. He gently freed himself. "Save that for your brother," he said and walked away with a slight nod to Éomer.
Éomer looked at her, quite surprised. His little sister did not bestow affections on anybody so easily – except for himself and a few others, and Aragorn was veritably a stranger. He could not quite apprehend what lay behind this embrace and wondered what had transpired between his little sister and Aragorn.
Éomer's brow furrowed.
Éowyn suddenly realised that her brother was standing next to Aragorn. "Éomer!" she cried and threw herself in his arms, her entire body shaking. Éomer held his sister close.
"I thought that I would never see you again," she whispered.
"Did I not tell you that I would come back?" Éomer smiled as he held his sister.
Théoden King approached them; his lips curled in a little, sad half-smile. "There is so much that we need to talk about, so much I have missed," he said quietly.
Éomer let go of his sister and turned towards his uncle. "Indeed there is, but for the moment I am just pleased to see you well again, uncle. It was difficult seeing you under Grima's influence. By the way, where is the worm? Gandalf did not mention him. I would very much like to settle matters with him." Éomer asked, his voice hardening.
"I had him thrown out of Meduseld – and would have killed him, if not Aragorn had stayed my arm. He is probably hiding with his master. I presume that it is he, who told Saruman how to find the weaknesses of the Deep," the king said, bitterness evident in his voice.
Slowly, the aftermath of the battle turned into hard work. The wounded were being taken care of and the dead buried. Most of the survivors were preparing to go back to Edoras, except for those of the wounded, who could not be moved. The king stood with Gamling and Éomer, discussing the organisation of the transport of the people back to Edoras.
Gandalf came up to them together with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. "We have some unfinished business with Saruman, I believe." He smiled. "And I have left a couple of nuisances with Treebeard that I want to free him of. Théoden King, I believe that you have matters to discuss with Saruman, too?"
The king nodded. "Yes, I would welcome a chance to talk to Saruman. It is true that we have got some unfinished business with him." He turned to Gamling. "Gamling, please see to it that our horses are saddled – and I need you to go with us, too."
Gamling nodded. "Aye, my Lord," calling to one of the younger riders to go with him and see it done.
Éomer looked inquisitively at Aragorn. "Treebeard? – And which nuisances is he talking about?"
"You will see. Treebeard is an Ent – a tree herder; the guardian of Fangorn. Have you not heard of those, living so close to Fangorn for most of your life?" Aragorn lit up in a smile.
Éomer looked surprised. "Of course – but I thought that they were only creatures of children's stories and myths? Do they really exist?"
"Yes," Gandalf said, "they do exist; they are our allies in the fight against the Dark Lord, and I believe that Treebeard and the ents most surely are guarding Saruman for us. I do need to get Saruman to talk. He is deep in the enemy's council and it is of the utmost importance that we learn everything we can from him."
Before they set out for Isengard, the king ordered Éowyn to lead the people back to Edoras together with Éothain and Erkenbrand and to start the preparations for a feast, celebrating the victory. Éomer knew that she would rather have gone with them and he hid a smirk as he saw her dissatisfied face.
"Good luck," Éomer whispered to Éothain, "from the look on my sister's face, you will need it."
His friend looked at him. "Aye, I can tell. I had better guard my words. But I shall manage, remember I have known her as long as I have known you."
They rode through Fangorn Forest, where no trace of the fleeing uruk-hai could be seen. Éomer had a strange feeling as he rode behind the king and Aragorn; the trees seemed to whisper to each other and he felt the dark magic of the place surrounding them like a mantle. Although they lived just on the borders of the forest, people of Rohan had always been avoiding Fangorn because of the rumours of dark magic and mysterious creatures, which lived there. The after throes of yesterday's battle hung in the heavy, scented air of the ancient forest.
Legolas sensed that Éomer was somewhat uncomfortable and he steered his horse up beside the young marshal. "I sense that you feel uncomfortable; do not be. The forest holds no ill will against men and elves. They might against dwarves, but as long as my dwarf friend keeps his axe in his belt, he will be alright too."
Éomer grinned. He was beginning to like the elf, and he had already sensed that the relationship between the dwarf and the elf was turning into a fast friendship, even though they argued quite a lot. Gimli grunted something from his position behind Legolas, which Éomer made out to be protests about the friendliness of Fangorn.
When they reached the outskirts of the forest and the fortress of Isengard, they were met by a couple of small, merry looking persons - neither men, nor dwarves. Éomer assumed that they would be the nuisances Gandalf had been talking about, the hobbits that Aragorn and his companions had been searching for when he met them, Merry and Pippin.
They greeted the party with a loud: "Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" By their demeanour, they had apparently been enjoying themselves, eating, drinking and smoking extensively. Aragorn sent Legolas and Éomer a big grin, and Gandalf shook his head. "Hobbits!" he hissed.
The dwarf snorted disdainfully and uttered his annoyance of the fact that they had been in pursuit of them and their abductors for several days, fighting a bloody battle, and all the time the hobbits had been safe, enjoying themselves, eating and smoking pipe weed, much to the amusement of the others. The hobbits defended themselves, arguing that they, too, had suffered a great deal and that they had not been idle; they had helped the ents freeing Isengard.
Listening to the argument, Éomer was beginning to see what Aragorn and Gandalf had meant when they called these two a couple of nuisances. "These are indeed the two halflings we were looking for when we met you, Éomer. Seeing them now, I am not so sure why I even bothered," Aragorn said and grinned. "But they are entertaining, as you will learn soon enough."
Gandalf interrupted the argument with a snort, "Enough of this! We have serious business here!" The hobbits realised that this was no time for arguing or continued banter and hurried to get their things.
Aragorn sat Pippin behind him on Brégo and Éomer grabbed hold of Merry's arm and hoisted him up behind him. "Behave yourself, little hobbit," he said, "or Firefoot is likely to throw both you and me."
Merry looked at him. The young marshal looked very severe at first sight and Merry was not sure how to tackle the situation, so he tried to remain very quiet. Éomer smiled to himself, as he felt the young hobbit's apprehension.
The party rode up to the tower. They looked in awe at what the Ents had accomplished – the total ruin of Saruman's stronghold. The ent, Treebeard, welcomed them. His greeting rumbled towards them like thunder. Éomer looked astonished at him – or it – he had never known that such creatures existed. The ent seemed to be a creature from children's fairy tales.
They rode through the water that now flooded the surroundings of Orthanc and came to a halt beneath the mighty tower. The tower seemed abandoned; no movement could be seen. Aragorn looked up and hissed impatiently, "Show yourself!", clutching his sword hilt as he uttered these words.
Gandalf looked at him. "Be careful. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."
Éomer sent the wizard a sideward glance. He agreed with him, but he felt like Aragorn, he wanted a confrontation with the wizard to have him pay for he had done to Rohan, to its people; he wanted him to pay for Théodred's life.
From behind Legolas' back, Gimli made an impatient move. "Well, let's just have his head and be done with it." Gandalf shook his head: "No. We need him alive. We need him to talk. "
Éomer and Aragorn shared a look, and Aragorn nodded imperceptibly.
Saruman came out onto the balcony and addressed Théoden: "You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"
Éomer sent his uncle a questioning and warning look, but his uncle did not seem to take the bait, and spoke in a restrained voice through gritted teeth. "We shall have peace. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace."
Saruman snarled maliciously. "Gibbets and crows? Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess. The key of Orthanc. Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dûr itself along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"
Gandalf did not answer to the malicious scorn and in stead entreated Saruman. "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are at risk. But you can save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel. "
Saruman laughed. "So you have come here for information. I have some for you."
He lifted a Palantír in front of him. "Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You're all going to die. But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."
Éomer felt Merry's reaction behind him as Saruman uttered these words. "Don't believe him, Merry. Saruman speaks evil, but he does not control everything in this world," he whispered reassuringly to the young hobbit. He felt for his bow, but Gimli beat him to it. "I've heard enough! Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob!" he whispered to Legolas.
Gandalf stopped him. "No. Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."
Éomer made an impatient move, and Théoden sent him a warning look.
Saruman snorted. "Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it! " He sent a giant fire ball from his staff towards Gandalf. and for a moment it seemed like the flames would devour him, but Gandalf emerged without even a singe. Gandalf turned his powers against Saruman and his staff was broken, extinguishing the powers of the once white wizard. "Saruman, your staff is broken," he shouted.
The staff crushed into a thousand pieces.
At this moment, Grima appeared behind his master, looking haunted and gazing down at them almost with longing in his eyes.
I bet that now you would prefer being taken to Rohan for punishment rather than staying as Saruman's servant, Éomer thought. He looked at the slimy worm with hatred; he wished that he could lay his hands on him. He had much to avenge.
Théoden spoke. "Grima, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a Man of Rohan. Come down."
But Saruman hissed scornfully. " A Man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs?" Éomer felt Saruman's eyes graze him as he spoke these words, and his anger rose. Through his anger, he heard the wizard continue his scorn: "The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horse-master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."
Éomer was aware that his uncle felt shameful that Aragorn had taken command at Helm's Deep when he had despaired. Gamling had told him what had happened when the uruks were breaking into the hold. That Aragorn had given them hope and shown resolve when the king seemed hesitant. He looked at his uncle, and was amazed that he could keep his calm, but the king did not even flinch when he continued. "Grima, come down. Be free of him."
Saruman snarled contemptuously. "Free? He will never be free." And as Grima made a movement as to gainsay this, uttering "No!" he struck down Grima with a single blow. "Get down, cur! "
Gandalf again beseeched Saruman: "Saruman! You were deep in the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"
"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here." Behind his master, Grima was getting up. He drew a dagger and stabbed Saruman several times in the back.
Before any of the others could react, Legolas released an arrow, hitting Grima. Grima winced in pain and fell back, making Saruman plummet off the tower and towards the ground. He landed on top of a spear on one of his own devices. Disgust showed in the faces of them all. Éomer felt a sense of hopelessness overflow him. They had failed in their mission to learn of the enemy's plans. Well, perhaps they were no worse off than they had been before. He listened to Gandalf, as he addressed Théoden and Treebeard. "Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."
They bid Treebeard goodbye; Gandalf asked him to guard the place and set things right there, until such a time as the king returned – and to watch Rohan's borders. They prepared to go back to Edoras.
Éomer rode up beside Legolas: "I would have liked to have done what you did myself – to avenge my cousin. But I thank you, elf prince, for ridding us of the worm. Never again shall I mistrust the elves." Behind Legolas, Gimli chuckled. "Sometimes this elf princeling has his uses. At least his arrows always hit their target!"
After a couple of days' ride, they reached Edoras. Most of the riders and the people had returned. Although they had lost so much, the city seemed relieved of the gloom that had rested upon it for so long during Grima's reign. Everybody was busy preparing for the celebrations. Éowyn and Fréalin were overseeing all preparations.
When the party had returned to the city, Éomer went to see Fréalin. The king's housekeeper looked up as he entered the kitchen. Her face lit up in a soft smile as he came over to her. She took his hand and clasped it. "Thank Béma that you are safe, I do not know what I would have done, had I lost you as well."
Éomer held her for a while. "I am so sorry to hear about Théodred, and I am sorry that I was not here at his burial," he whispered.
The housekeeper let go of him. "Well, you could not, now could you," she said brusquely. "Now go, I have things to do if we are to honour the dead tonight – I shall tell the maids to prepare a bath for you; you could use it - and your beard could with do with some trimming," she said brusquely, shoving him out of the kitchen. Éomer smiled; he knew that this was her way of showing her affection.
Éowyn entered Éomer's chamber just as he had finished bathing and was standing by the mirror, dressed only in his breeches trimming his beard. He smiled at her, but his voice was serious. "'Tis strange being here without Théodred, and it is even stranger to prepare for a celebration when we really should be preparing for war. Uncle must realise that the war against Sauron is far from won. We shall have to go to war, sister, to come to the aid of Gondor."
Éowyn smiled a little sad smile, "I know what you feel, brother, and I believe that uncle will realise this – in time. Let us go to the hall, our people are gathering there." Éomer finished dressing, closing the final clasps of his tunic and fastened his sword at his side.
Théoden King stood on the dais in front of his throne overlooking the crowd. On the king's request, Éomer had taken Théodred's position behind the throne. The king looked out over the crowd and addressed them. "As you know, my son is dead, killed by Saruman's hordes. But Rohan is not without an heir."
He turned towards Éomer and put a hand on his shoulder. "I hereby name Éomer, son of Éomund, my sister-son to be my heir." The crowd cheered; Éomer did not really know how he was supposed to feel about this. He was proud, surely, but it did not feel right to him; this was Théodred's birthright – not his. He smiled a little bitterly to himself. I am sure that Béowulf would have accepted me sooner, had he known this.
Éowyn walked up to her uncle, handing him a golden goblet. Théoden lifted the cup and again spoke to the crowd. "Tonight we remember those who gave their life. Hail the victorious dead!" Everybody lifted their cups and tankards and repeated "Hail!"
After the formal part, Théoden looked at his nephew. "Go, Éomer, go join the others. You deserve to celebrate." Éomer joined some of his men, who were sitting with Gimli and Legolas. The dwarf was most anxious to have Legolas participate in a drinking contest. Legolas was a bit wary, but Gimli assured him that there was nothing to it.
Éomer laughingly explained the rules of the game and promised to help – at least with filling the tankards. He declined participating himself, but some of his men gladly took part. To everybody's surprise, Legolas was the last man standing, proclaiming that he only felt a little tingling in his fingertips.
Éomer laughed. "I do believe that the dwarf feels a bit more than that," he said looking at Gimli, who was lying face down on the table. He congratulated the elf and then looked around for his sister.
He saw her approaching Aragorn, offering him a stirrup cup. The adoring look in her eyes did not escape him. Aragorn accepted the cup, drank from it and then moved away. Éowyn's eyes followed him. Their uncle moved up to her, exchanging a few words with her; Éowyn smiled happily. The look in his uncle's face changed from a tender smile to his niece to a bitter expression as they spoke. Éomer wondered what that was all about, but then Éothain asked him a question and he turned towards him. When he finished the conversation with Éothain, his sister and his uncle had disappeared in the crowd.
Later he was leaning against one of the pillars watching the ongoings in the hall; he took a sip from his tankard and remembered the look in his sister's eyes. He shook his head I would be glad for her, but I still do not think that he is meant for her. I have to talk to her – or him. He shrugged off his thoughts as his attention was drawn to another part of the great hall.
The hobbits, Merry and Pippin, were entertaining his men dancing and singing. Éomer laughed heartily as he saw one of them kick Gamling's tankard into his lap. The Rohir cursed frightfully but the others just laughed. Éomer joined in, relishing the look on his friend's face.
"I told you that they were entertaining." Éomer heard a voice say; Aragorn had moved up behind him. Last Éomer had seen him, he had been standing next to Gandalf, watching the hobbits and exchanging a few words with the wizard.
"I should say so," Éomer replied with a grin. "I especially cherished the look on Gamling's face."
Aragorn looked at the young man. He sensed that he was not quite comfortable with his new role as the king's heir. "I know how you feel at this moment," he said, "some people might think that you would jump at the opportunity of becoming king, but I can easily understand if you do not. I have been trying to flee my destiny all my life, but it seems now that I cannot escape it – and neither can you."
"How did you know?" Éomer inquired.
"I saw your face when Théoden King announced that you would be his heir. You looked almost frightened – and I believe that it takes much to frighten you. You do not feel that you have got the right; that it is rightfully your cousin's place you are assuming. Am I wrong in this?"
"You are most perceptive, my Lord." Éomer could not help smiling; he felt that this man could really be a friend. He liked his quiet demeanour and admired his courage.
Aragorn laughed. "I told you before – I am no less or no more than you, Éomer, son of Éomund – neither will I perhaps be one day. We are equals."
Later Éomer found his sister; she was talking to the hobbits and laughing at their antics. When they saw Éomer approaching, their talk stopped. 'Do not stop for my sake; I like to see my sister laugh. Béma knows that it has been a long time since last I saw that." The hobbits mumbled something inaudible and left the siblings to talk.
Éomer sat down beside his sister. "At some point you must have scared them, brother dear." Éowyn laughed. "But they really are very sweet both of them."
Éomer smiled. "I must have – although I did not mean to. How are you now, sister? I worried so much about you when I had to leave, and I barely have had time to talk to you since we returned."
"I am fine now that I see you back again and uncle's health restored. I miss Théodred, though, and not having you here when we buried him almost broke my heart."
"Hm, but I can see that someone may have captured it in stead. I saw the look you exchanged with Aragorn earlier on. Watch out little sister, you may get hurt."
"How do you know that; uncle says that he is an honourable man. And why should I be hurt?"
"He is truly an honourable man, and if we can win this war, he will be King of Gondor – but, call it intuition, sister. He may have affection for you, and he strives not to hurt you. He withdraws when you try to get closer to him. I can tell. I may be wrong, but you should not set your hopes on him. I will not see you hurt more than you have already been; I shall never forget the look in your eyes when I had to leave – it resembled the look when our mother died."
Éowyn looked at her older brother; he had never spoken so sincerely to her before and she knew that he had her best interest in mind, but she could not believe that Aragorn would want to withdraw from her. Though she did know that there was another woman in his life; the one who had given him the jewel that he wore around his neck. She had asked him about it on the road to Helm's Deep, and she had seen the longing in his eyes, when he had answered her. But – had he not said that she was leaving with her people to go to the undying lands?
She turned from Éomer and looked across the room where Aragorn was talking with the king. She admired him greatly and she felt the kindness in him. Although he was much older than she had realised at first, he had revealed that to her – but that would not matter, would it?
She truly felt that he was the man of her dreams, a noble man who would not hurt her. Obviously Éomer did not think so but how would he know? And then she realised that he did indeed know. He knew what it was like to love – and to lose the one he loved. He knew what it was like to be hurt.
"I will look after myself, brother, do not worry." She smiled affectionately at her brother and he squeezed her arm reassuringly in return.
The celebrations were dying down, and all Edoras settled down to sleep. Éomer saw Aragorn moving about, as if he could not sleep, but Éomer did not want to interfere, as Aragorn seemed deep in thoughts.
Éomer was exhausted from the events of the past weeks and he went to his chamber, which he shared with some of the others for the occasion, among them Erkenbrand and Elfhelm, to get some sleep. None of them had, however, turned up before he fell into a deadly sleep.
In the morning he heard from Aragorn that the hobbit Pippin had caused some commotion during the night, trying to steal the Palantír, which Gandalf had taken from him at Isengard and the hobbit had looked into it.
"I must have been tired," Éomer told Aragorn. "I have heard absolutely nothing – not even the drunken mob coming in." He gestured at Elfhelm and Erkenbrand, who looked as if they could have needed a couple of hours' more sleep.
Pippin had gotten through the ordeal with no injuries to heart and mind, and had had some of the enemy's plans revealed to him, but Sauron had also seen the hobbit and Gandalf and Aragorn were sure that the Dark Lord now believed Pippin to be the Ringbearer. Therefore it would be dangerous for Pippin to remain in Rohan. It would most certainly draw the eye of Sauron towards Edoras and Rohan.
After breakfast Éomer went to Théodred's grave and sat for a long time on a grassy knoll, thinking of his cousin. And now it is I, who must bear the burdens of kingship, Dred. I am indeed honoured - but I was never meant to be King of Rohan, you were. He thought of Théodred, who had been a cherished older brother to him. He had learned much from his older cousin, and he had looked up to him – even though he had known and loved his weaknesses as well. He was going to miss his handsome cousin with the contagious laugh and quick wit. I thought that you would be the king and I the second in command – and I would have helped you! A tear had found its way down his cheek, and Éomer dried it off; then he rose and went slowly up the hill towards the Golden Hall.
Outside the stables he met Gandalf and the hobbits; Gandalf was obviously furious and Merry told Éomer that Gandalf was taking Pippin with him to Minas Tirith to keep him out of harm's way – and to protect Rohan.
When Éomer asked him what had happened, the wizard hissed: "Your uncle will not see that Rohan has to go to the aid of Gondor; he does not feel that he has any obligations to. Therefore I have to go and make the steward see sense and ask Rohan for help, which will be no easy task either. Somebody must see to it that the beacons are lit. You must be ready, Éomer, war will come and Rohan has to ride."
Éomer nodded solemnly: "I shall be ready, Gandalf, and I believe that uncle will see sense in the end – and if the beacons are lit, Théoden King will remember the Oath of Éorl; I am sure of it."
He bid them farewell and stood looking after them as Shadowfax picked up speed, running across the plains. As he turned to ascend the stairs to Meduseld, he saw the hobbit Merry run up the watchtower and Aragorn following him. He imagined that it would be hard on Merry without his friend and constant companion.
The days passed; Éomer and his sister had spoken about what would happen if the beacons truly were lit and they both agreed that the king would answer. If not, Éomer was prepared to break his oath to Rohan and follow Aragorn.
Neither of them had spoken much with Aragorn; he seemed to keep to himself and was ever watching the mountains for any sign. Éomer knew from Legolas and Gimli that Aragorn had wanted to go to Minas Tirith to warn them of Sauron's evil plans, but that Gandalf had spoken against it. Éomer could understand that Aragorn was anxious. They all were.
Legolas, Gimli and Merry had told the siblings of their journey as it had been until they met with Éomer on the plains, and Merry told them what had happened when they had been taken captive of the uruks – up until the time when Éomer and his men had attacked the camp, killing off all the uruks. And they also told him of Frodo and Sam, who had decided to go to the Mountain of Doom by themselves. "We saw them last at Amon Hen, when the uruk-hai attacked us," Merry said solemnly, "and Boromir was killed trying to save us."
"Frodo must be a brave man to take on such a task," Éomer said.
"He is not a man, he is a hobbit." Merry corrected him.
Éomer smiled. "I see – and I do think that even the bravest man would hesitate to go on such a quest, even though a hobbit may not."
Aragorn had joined them and overheard what was said. "I can tell you, Éomer, that the bravest man would – but there is more to hobbits than what you see on the surface." He smiled at Merry, putting a hand on the young hobbit's shoulder.
After dinner that night Éomer sat on the stairs outside the hall, looking out over the plains. He was thinking of his cousin and of the fact that they might be going to war. As he had told Éowyn, he had decided that he would follow Aragorn, no matter what. He felt that he owed it to Théodred and to his people. No more would he hesitate if it meant the survival of his people.
He heard light footsteps behind him and turned his head. Aragorn had come out on the terrace, stuffing his pipe as he watched the starlit night. "You have seemed thoughtful all day, Éomer – what is troubling you?" he asked as he sat down on the stairs beside the young man.
"A lot of things, really, but mostly the thought of going to war. In my opinion it is inevitable – and even though uncle seems reluctant at the moment, I am sure that he will face reality at the end, we must keep our oaths! And I owe it to my cousin – and to my father! They were both killed by orcs – Sauron's vile creatures." The young marshal looked determined.
Aragorn smiled, as he puffed on his pipe. "He will; he will – and all of us must face the dire consequences of such a decision," he said cryptically. Then they turned to other subjects such as horses, both unwilling to keep the conversation anything but light.
Next morning, the king held council in the Golden Hall. Aragorn had made himself scarce, obviously keeping watch again. Éomer had been listening to the debate and was talking quietly with Legolas, when the doors were suddenly flung open and Aragorn stormed in. "The beacons are lit, the beacons of Minas Tirith! Gondor calls for aid!" he shouted as he ran up to the others. His eyes shone with a strange light. So this is it, Éomer thought and turned from Legolas to look apprehensively at his uncle.
Éowyn had tried to keep herself occupied elsewhere in the hall, but she now came running to her brother's side and looked anxiously up at him. "What will uncle do?" she whispered. Éomer shrugged. "What he must; I am sure of it."
He looked intensely at the king, awaiting his reply. The king's eyes sought his nephew's and then only hesitated for a while before he said in a strong voice: "And Rohan will answer!"
Aragorn's face lit up; he nodded. Éomer let out a sharp breath, seeking Aragorn's eyes. The older man nodded unnoticeably at him. The king turned towards Éomer: "Muster the Rohirrim!" he ordered.
Éomer exchanged a look with his sister, squeezed her arm and left to give the orders. He felt relieved that his uncle had taken the decision to answer to Gondor's request. A couple of hours later he reported to the king that things were set in motion. Everybody was busy gathering provisions and all riders were summoned. The king had donned his armour and was carrying his helmet. "Thank you, Éomer," he said, "you have been most efficient."
Éomer followed the king out on the stairs, as he was giving his orders. Just outside the door, the king stopped and put a hand on Éomer's shoulder. "Assemble the men at Dunharrow, as many men as can be found. You have two days and then we must ride!" he said and then he turned to Gamling, telling him to make haste across the Riddermark gathering as many men as he could.
Éomer nodded and turned to Éothain to pass on the orders to muster as many men as he could. They were to set out for Dunharrow within the hour; Gamling and Éothain were to meet them there when they had gathered provisions and mustered the riders.
An hour later, he was running down the stairs towards the stables to get his horse, and as he was leading Firefoot out of the stable, he saw Éowyn and Aragorn getting ready to go. His brow furrowed as he saw how his sister looked at Aragorn. But he decided that he would leave that for later; it was probably all in his imagination. Besides – she was only going to accompany them to Dunharrow; who knew whether they would survive the fighting anyway. He was also by now quite certain that Aragorn would not hurt his sister on purpose.
He mounted his horse and rode up to front the riders, who were forming ranks to leave the city. He called out to the men: "Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan! Oaths you have taken; now fulfil them all – to lord and to land!" Riding to the head of the column and taking the flank of his uncle, he gave the sign. The riders filed out of the gate, heading for Dunharrow.
After some hours' hard ride, they slowed their horses down to a trot to rest them. Aragorn rode to the front alongside Éomer. He grinned sideways at the young marshal. "Your sister told me that it is customary for the women of the court to accompany the men to battle, to farewell them, but is it also customary to do this at sword point? I saw that she had brought her sword."
Éomer looked at Aragorn – despite the fact that he was not happy about his sister's apparent infatuation with the man, he could not help liking and admiring him: "Yes, well for my sister anyway. She is as good as any man, save me, of course, with a sword." He smiled. "She has almost beaten me a number of times, and also our cousin, but only almost."
Aragorn grinned. "Yes, I know of her skills. A true shieldmaiden of Rohan." Éomer reciprocated the grin and decided to come straight to the point: "My Lord, I need to ask you a direct question, because I do not know any other way to ask. Are you in love with my sister?"
Aragorn looked surprised at him. "A direct question, my young Horse Lord, which deserves a direct answer. No, I have much affection for her; I hold her in high esteem - and perhaps also felt pity when first I met her," he said.
"I am sorry if you feel that I have given her that impression. My heart belongs to another, it has for many years and although I do not know whether this will ever come to be, I cannot give your sister what she seeks." He smiled a little sad smile.
"Will you tell her?" Éomer asked.
"I shall, of course, if need be. But – she asked me once who had given me the jewel around my neck, and I told her about the woman, who did – although not in any certain terms. I just told her that she was leaving these shores together with her kin."
"She is an elf?" Éomer asked. This, indeed, surprised him.
"Yes, she is of the Eldar, an elf maiden of noble birth and great beauty," Aragorn's face lit up and Éomer could see the love for his lady in his eyes, but also great sadness. He decided to leave it at that. Now he knew for certain that Aragorn would not deliberately hurt his sister.
"I am glad that you are so honest with me; indeed I would not like to see my sister hurt." Éomer said.
"Éomer, I admire your sister and I wish her nothing but joy – but that is all. Some day somebody, who deserve her, will be there for her. I am sure of it."
Aragorn reached over and put a hand on Éomer's arm. "None of us knows where this will lead; whether we shall see peace and the downfall of Sauron or whether we shall all perish." Éomer nodded and the two men fell silent and just rode along.
16